Big Hero 6: Sign of the Giri
by KoolKat189
Summary: BH6's superhero careers are in jeopardy. Coincidentally, a mysterious organization of what appears to be super-humans attacks San Fransokyo, then vanishes without a trace. Motives: unknown. Base: unknown. The team races to get to the bottom of the mystery. Meanwhile, a threat from Hiro's past, one that he barely remembers, has resurfaced. [Two years post-movie]
1. Prologue

Prologue

* * *

The Arctic. A freezing, desolate and blustery wasteland of continuous blizzards twenty-four/seven.

Resolute Island, for instance, was a rare spark of habitation in the godforsaken stretch of land. The Island was comprised of mostly Inuits, and even the toughest nail-biting kind were well convinced that they will never know what it's like to be properly warm in their entire lives. Beyond that, no one else could adapt to the regions further north.

So it seemed.

The Arctic. A place of spellbound mystery and ice. There's always something hiding there, where the world least expects it.

And an unexplored region, with multiple physical barriers, makes a perfect refuge...

* * *

"Commander! The magnetic containment field! It's destabalizing!"

"Well what does it look like to ya up here? Take over for me while I get to the bottom of this!"

"Roger."

The sergeant hurriedly clambered off the side rails and into the secluded perimeter below, where the entire maintenance job took place. Inside, teams of aeronautical engineers and systems operators were seated in front of rows of consoles; they madly typed away on their control pads while the scene of trouble played out in front of them.

A hardon collider, several hundred feet in length and packed into several ginormous metallic rings, lead to the biggest ring of all. The center of which flashed many neon-colored lights that illumintated every corner of the dome-sized lab. The entire contraption's beams of light flickered wildly while it sucked parts of the lab, right and left, into its interior. The metallic platforms on which the contraption was supported swayed under the weight and creaked ominously, the noise mixing in with the deafening sucking from the ring of unstable light. Outside the secluded permieter, units of soldiers were scattering hither, away from chunks of flying debris while the lieutenant shouted commands to them over the ongoing rush. Only the commander, a small group of officers and several other scientists stood at the edge of the dock, trying to figure out the cause of the disruption despite the rush of chaos around them.

The sergeant knew that that the contraption - the portal, to be more exact - wasn't the only thing at stake.

"Move!" He rudely shoved a systems operator off his seat, then switched on the monitor while tuning in to his communicator in his earpiece. "Commander! Status report!"

"No contact, sir!" was the answer from the other end.

"Anything at all from the pilot?"

"No sir! Radar's breaking up! All systems failing! I repeat, no contact!"

"Dagnabbit!" The hotheaded sergeant slammed his palm against the table. "I anticipated this. Stupid portal's broke!"

"Wait, sir! There's still time! The team's still got time for clearing up the ruptures in the field!"

"Well, let's hurry them up 'fore the thing's gonna explode! I'll check the data for any further signs of the pilot." He typed in access to the network; several elaborate virtual displays popped up on the screen. All showed moving images of the physics at work within the portal, but the commander was really looking for one that should show signs of any life in the portal. He checked all the data. Nothing.

The sergeant threw his cap down in frustration. Great. The general and his crew have agreed to assist this intelligence agency - the Giri - into administering and activating this portal. From the clues he heard, they were searching for something within the portal. The object of interest, however, was classified for the while. But now, they lost contact, and to top it all, they had a self-destructing portal to deal with. The neighboring tech gurus must've checked a thousand times over by now, and still no sign of life.

The sergeant's eyes darkened. It wasn't the same as working for that self-conceited moron Krei...but this? This was the Giri they were talking about now, for goodness' sakes. Whole different story. If neither Krei Tech nor anyone else could develop a portal to an alternate universe or wherever it led, then the Giri would be the first to innovate it. There was a saying in the Giri: Always ahead. Either the portal worked, or the entire idea stayed science fiction.

"Uh, sir?"

The sergeant briskly turned in his chair to face another shaken engineer standing at his side. "What?" he barked.

The scientist looked intimidated by the commander's lack of patience, but he remained determined. "Sir, if I could borrow the monitor just for a minute...I've checked in with the innovators near the portal and they just found signs of life! I just have to pinpoint the location of the pilot's whereabouts," he hastily added.

The sergeant hesitated. Similar false alarms as this have been going on for the past several hours. He didn't want any further problems with the general just because he allowed some confident techy to mess up the lab even further, when all it took was for the commander on his part to shut the portal down, evade the problem altogether and call it a day. But then, why did that scrawny guy look more confident despite the current bleak circumstances?

The sergeant grudgingly allowed the scientist a seat, while the latter delved into further displays on the computer. He turned on the speaker at his ear. " Commander, I think I found our target!"

"Where?!"

"Mixed in with the other contents of the portal, but in motion!"

"Hurry up and give us the best estimate of the location!" the commander shouted over the intercom.

"It's headed our way, to the portal!"

"But the portal is breaking down! It doesn't have enough energy for access to work!"

"Sir, I think I know how to open the portal wide enough for the shuttle to return to us? Have you considered the voltage? I mean..."

The sergeant, who was standing nearby, heard fragments of the conversation from both sides. He yanked the speaker off the engineer's head and jammed them onto his own. "Commander, this is the sergeant speaking! I'm going to command the tech team here to raise the voltage on the portal!"

"Don't! The generator's going to blow if we raise it any higher!"

"It will only take a few seconds, commander - just enough for the shuttle to come through."

"It could cause an explosion and render us all in danger..."

"But it could work!"

The commander paused for a moment. Finally:

"Well, blasted thing's flopped on us b'fore. Ok, but only for a few seconds! But if pilot still hasn't made it by that time..."

The sergeant didn't hear any more. He threw down the speakers and strode in among the rows of scientists.

"Ok, men!" he barked to everyone. "Commander says to raise the voltage for a few seconds! But only a few seconds, not more! If we can't fix it now, we will never fix this again! Let's go, go, GO!"

Multiple cries of doubt and protests ensued from the teams of scientists.

"But sir-"

"We can't-"

"What if-"

"NOW!" the sergeant bellowed. Everyone else instantly complied as they changed the settings on their console; the sound instantly became rent with bleeps and humming motors from the consoles.

A half-minute later, the sergeant spun around. The sucking and whooshing suddenly turned into a roar. More debris scattered all over the vast lab floor and in the air, crashing into the construction around, as the sucking became stronger, more compelling, more ominous. The commander heard cries of fear from every side as he witnessed the flying parts leave mass destruction everywhere in their wake, but he stood his ground, peering hard at the nearly out-of-control portal. Just a few seconds longer...

Just a few more...

Just a few more...

It came with a loud clap of electric bolts, followed by the loudest explosion yet. Just as a massive object soared out of the swirling circle and into view, the portal exploded. The countless stands used to support it collapsed, taking the countless other metallic structures down with it, while the portal's remnants flew into various directions of the large lab. Everyone in the lab took cover while the rest of the framework around them fell and smashed whatever got in their path.

A few more minutes of demolished portal remains tumbling on top of each other; then, all was still. The remaining teams of scientists and soldiers who didn't get struck looked up over the debris and peered through the dusty smoke and haze that was the aftermath of the destruction.

Everything - ruined. Nothing left. Except-

"Look - the shuttle! It's here! It's here!" a cry came up somewhere from the pile of debris. When everyone caught on to the news, a massive cheer rent the air from all sides. Officers and soldiers threw their dusty caps in the air in joy and relief, while everyone else immediately scrambled over to check the shuttle.

The shuttle was as battered from its trip to another dimension as it could get, but at least it remained intact. The pilot inside the cockpit looked barely alive as he was slumped limply over the pilot's seat.

The commander, who at that moment arrived to inspect the damage, switched on his earpiece. "Mission accomplished, General. The pilot returned."

"Did he return with anything else? Chief here wants to know if he collected any cargo."

"I'll go check, sir."

The commander strode over to the beaten-up shuttle, where some of his men were unloading a certain capsule from within. Grinning, he connected to the general again.

"We found a capsule, sir."

"Bring it in, commander."

* * *

Minutes later, the commander and several more of his troops hauled behind them the capsule, which floated on airborne cushions. They entered through the airlock, which slid open; an entire team of paramedics flooded past them to assist the injured soldiers back in the lab. The troops passed through a dim hall, its hallway longer yet just as vast as the lab. He and his men turned a corner, where several more units of armed soldiers, engineers and _shinobi_ alike, clad in silvery fighter suits, turned their attention at the arrivals. The general was talking to a middle-aged man with the wildest, thickest silvery mop of hair, when the latter looked up.

"Ah, look! The commander brought us a little present with him! And on his first trial, too! My top scientists didn't give you too much much of a hard time, did they? I told you I have only the most brilliant minds around here to assist you!" The mop-haired man - the "Chief", that is - approached the commander with a rather unpleasant grin, revealing a set of bright white teeth. He meant for it to be an inviting gesture, but it only made him look all the more treacherous. Well, that was Katsuro Tokushima for you.

The commander was about to continue when suddenly,

"Katsuro, if you had any dignity, you would stop trying to act like someone you're not!" A voice floated from of the back of the crowd.

The crowd parted to reveal the speaker approach them, her stiletto heels clicking against the shiny hard floor. Everything she wore - suit jacket, pleated skirt, heels and all - was black, except for her crisp white blouse. She had the mature dignity of an professional, yet a certain ethereal beauty radiated from her. Her complexion would have completed her ideal beauty if she wasn't wearing an impatient scowl.

"Out of my way," she snapped. She passed the commander and Katsuro, who looked dumbfounded by the girl's caustic remark; nevertheless, he retained his cocky self.

"Er, my daughter, Dehlia Tokushima," he carelessly gestured his hand to her. "Perhaps you know her."

No, the commander didn't. Though he couldn't help glancing at her way more than once.

Dehlia Tokushima, meanwhile, keyed in the passcode in the capsule; the top slid open with a pneumatic hiss. A wave of dry ice rolled out, but Dehlia deftly waved it away. Both the general and Katsuro came to her side as they scrutinized the capsule's inner contents.

The top half looked like a deflated blob of a vinyl substance. It looked like it may have been white at some point, but now, no amount of washing could ever wipe away the dusty grit smeared all over it. The bottom half was encased in hard, rusty armor.

"Dehlia, m'dear. Is this what you were looking for?" Katsuro inquired of his daughter. "All I see is-"

Dehlia held up one hand to cut him off. She took a pair of glasses out of her breast pocket and put them on.

"If my sources are correct..." she murmured. The glasses must have been some type of scanner, because a stream of light poured out of the rim and passed over the unidentified object. Dehlia was probably satisfied with her search, because she turned to her father and stated with determination, "Yes, Katsuro, we found it."

She made no explanation of what "it" she was talking about.

Katsuro threw back his head and let out a shrill, wild laughter of glee that never failed to make the weak-hearted cringe.

"You've done it again, _pureshasu*_!" he shrieked. " That's my little genius! Atta girl!"

His daughter, on the other hand, displayed no such signs of stereotypical "mad scientist" behavior. She simply nodded and turned to the troops.

"Alright, boys, get ready. I think we may have what we were looking for," she announced. Her eyebrows surreptitiously furrowed, and the corner of her lips displayed a hint of a smirk. Her plans were coming along well. If they involved some probing via torture, well, did it really matter? In the end, the goals always justify the means...right?

"Next stop - San Fransokyo."

* * *

\- **So. Everyone. I probably wouldn't have ever posted this up had my bbff(best beta friend forever) raved, plead, and beseeched and finally made me write all this down. Not like it would have helped to keep my fanfic ideas in my head anyways. For months this story has been cooking in my head to the point of explosion, even though I was so hesitant to write this at first!**

 **\- Either way, hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading! Meanwhile, KoolKat here is gonna creep into a corner and try to find her Kool again (pun intended) before she starts overreacting about the entire fanfiction thing. O.O**

 **-*Pureshasu: 'Precious' in Japanese.**


	2. Fresh Start

Fresh Start

Hiro Hamada was unconsciously slumped at rest in his swivel chair. His head lolled to one side of the armrest while he snored on; his hands hung limply across the sides and one bare foot was propped against his desk. Stacks of folders littered the desk. Countless long-forgotten side notes dotted his wall and computer frame. Even more notes and papers showing complex data of all sorts were strewn across the wooden floor. Some were even tightly clutched in the boy's hands. Multiple toolbox components were swept onto one side, while the rest either hung on tiny metal racks or rested on the workspace table among electrical chips, wires, wood chippings, and other missing parts to electrical gadgets.

As for rest of the boy's room – well, except for the bed, which wasn't slept in for days – the room looked like a hurricane swept through it.

Basically, an early and peaceful morning in the high-tech city of San Fransokyo. Save for the incoming rush of a few stray vehicles upon the steep streets, all was quiet near the Lucky Cat Cafe where Hiro lived, and its vicinity.

A miniature robot-shaped alarm clock resting near Hiro's bedside hit 6:30 A.M.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Hiro awoke with a jerk. The sudden grating noise startled him, so that he teetered for a second on the unstable spinny chair; making frantic hand-circles in the air, he fell off with a terrific crash.

A moment of incessant beeps from the persistent alarm and silence from Hiro while he recovered his senses. Then,

"Ow," he groaned from the floor.

After which he instantly recognized the familiar squeaks of his huggable healthcare robot padding over to him.

"You have fallen," his marshmallow-y companion stated blankly and peered down at his fallen patient.

Hiro grunted. "Ugh, seriously, dude? I'm ok." With another grunt, he picked himself of the floor, turned off the alarm, and then caught sight of the calendar hanging above. Today's date was circled with bright red, which could only mean-

"M-my presentation!" Hiro gasped. "It's today!" That's when the feeling of nausea washed over him. He dizzily stumbled over to his bed to recover. Baymax, sensing Hiro's state, walked over and scanned him against the boy's wishes.

"My scanner found a decrease in your brain activity and function, primarily in the thamalus, a structure involved in alertness and attention; and in the pre-frontal cortex. Diagnosis: Sleeplessness."

Yeah, yeah, I know," Hiro sighed as he picked up his spilled sheets. Of course it was true. He _did_ spend a considerable number of sleepless nights studying, studying, studying. When not doing that, he prepared for the big presentation, which was today, at his university. Plus, with the job of creating his presentation on his PowerPoint slide show and practicing his speech, all this took time.

"Sleeping too little can be very detrimental to your health," Baymax continued. "However, sleeping too much can cause lethargy."

Sleeping too much? Nah, not a problem. Given the chance, he doubted that would've helped anyway. The thought of the upcoming presentation was giving him butterflies in the stomach.

"Sorry, Baymax," Hiro responded truthfully. "But after this presentation, I'll try to sleep in tomorrow."

"I am still concerned about your sleeping schedule. On regular school days you sleep for approximately 3-5 hours, while the average young adult requires about 7-8 hours of sleep each night..."

Hiro decided to ignore the medical lecture and entered into the bathroom to change and ready himself.

Twenty minutes later, he was studying himself in the mirror with a satisfied smile on his face. He wore a sweater with his university's logo printed on it, the usual khaki shorts, and a cap with the San Fransokyo Ninjas initials. A backpack was slung over his shoulder, filled with his presentation papers as well as his own personal mini laptop and projector. He wanted to practice with his friends beforehand, since the SFIT show took place in the evening and he lacked the confidence to perform without their help. But other than that, he felt fresh enough to greet the new day.

"Well, how do I look?" Hiro asked his robot friend after mentally reciting fragments of his speech in front of the mirror as well as fixing up his posture to look presentable enough.

"You look: cheerful, yet: tense. I detect some changes in your hormonal levels – your pubescent mood swings-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Hiro waved him down.

It was two years since he was admitted into SFIT. Since then, he gained a few inches in height, he noticed, as he put his hand on the crown of his head and brought it against his wall's height marks to compare his past height. Also, his raven-black hair was messier than ever, if not a little longer by half an inch.

 _I don't care how much Aunt Cass nags, I am not going to brush my hair. I like it just the way it is._

He still possessed some features reminiscent of the fourteen-year-old version of himself, though, such as his scrawny, gangly build and slight overbite.

He smiled briefly at his reflection. _Calm down, Hiro, you look good enough for the job. Just put the confident face on, and you'll do fine. You still have time._ He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes and exhaled. Then before Baymax could point anything else out, Hiro quickly grabbed Baymax's chubby inflatable arm and led him downstairs to the café. "Come on, Baymax! Don't wanna be late for our meeting!"

He heard the familiar sound of plates clanging and gentle chatter resounding from the cafe as he hit the bottom step, Baymax toddling after him. 7 o'clock: the time when the café opened. Also one of the times when Cass received the most customers, since her breakfast menu was none the less popular than the café itself.

 _Now, to find Aunt Cass and help her in whatever way I can with running a restaurant._ Hiro stifled a yawn before glancing around to catch sight of his aunt.

He did spot her, but not as the usual cheery café owner bustling about to fill people's food orders. No, she was seated with several men in dark business suits. All of them seemed to be in the midst of a heated discussion.

Hiro's face fell. He knew perfectly well why they were here.

"...and for the last time," Cass screeched in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "my nephew isn't going anywhere!"

"Contain yourself, ma'am," one business man replied with a noticeable attempt of restraint in his voice. " You don't understand, Miss Hamada, the entire nation's already caught on to his astounding exploits, I'm sure that he will be content with this job and within time, become very successful-"

"That's enough, you are not gonna pressure him with anything!" Aunt Cass interrupted. She picked up the loads of folders containing the multiple written offers and shoved them into the man's hands.

"My nephew is. Staying. Here. He will get a real job ONLY when he wants to and when he's ready!"

"My dear woman, someone of such exceptional talent-"

"I don't care how smart he is!" Cass finished tersely and shooed away the rejected employers before turning and nearly bumping into Hiro.

"Oh, hello, sweetie," said Cass, smiling painfully. "Sorry about all this. I _told_ them that-"

"Oh, no, no, it's ok, Aunt Cass," Hiro said, smiling back reassuredly. "This thing happens all the time, might as well get used to it."

"Well, people sure get kinda pushy, don't they?" Aunt Cass sighed heavily. She knew too well the pressures the various companies were trying to lay to let her nephew, even though he refused all offers each time. A child genius he may be, but even he knew he was still a young teenager who had yet to blossom into adulthood.

"Anyways," Aunt Cass snapped back into her warm smile to match the freshness of the usual morn, "where are your dear friends? I don't see them here today..."

"Oh, they have a lot of work to catch up on, so we're meeting back at my lab," Hiro replied, reddening. Most of it was true, except he didn't mention what _kind_ of work they had to catch up on. That part was top-secret. He quickly changed the subject. "So, um, what's for breakfast today, Aunt Cass?"

"Well, today's your big day – mmph!" Aunt Cass squealed inwardly for her dearest before suggesting, "Tamagoyaki is on the menu today, so how about that? What would you like it with, a side of bacon or...salmon?"

Hiro shrugged. "I don't know, how about salmon?"

"All right, sweetie!" Aunt Cass beamed. "Coming right up for my dearest nephew!"

"Oh, wait, don't you need help with your customers and...?" Hiro asked hesitantly.

"No, I'll manage. Just sit down and wait for your breakfast. I don't want you to worry yourself about anything today but that grand speech!"

Less than five minutes later, Aunt Cass placed the steaming plate of breakfast with the side of salmon on the counter.

"Thanks, Aunt Cass." Hiro briefly bowed before taking his breakfast to the table, Baymax toddling after him. A familiar chorus of girlish giggles reached him as he made his way to a café table.

 _Oh, no,_ he thought, feeling his ears redden. _Them._

A group of three geeky-looking girls enthusiastically waved at him, got up from their tables and simultaneously squealed "Hi-i!" at the mussy-haired boy. He frequently found them hanging out at the café with more of their swooning girl friends during Saturday mornings – the days when he learned to avoid them.

"Um – hi," he uttered quite awkwardly before moving farther out and taking a seat with his back turned to them.

 _Ugh, what a day. First the business people, and now I've got fangirls. Fangirls!_

As though that wasn't bad enough, when Baymax took a seat next to Hiro, he stated, "I am sensing a case of chronic blushing, sweating, and constant fidgeting, a combination that means: embarrassment. Why are you embarrassed, Hiro?

Even more giggles ensued from behind.

"Girls, girls, please!" Aunt Cass, who appeared just in time, clucked in amusement before switching to a brisker tone. "I know you're all fond of Hiro in one way or another, but do leave Hiro alone! Now go eat your breakfast or shoo!" She waved her arms at them to indicate her point before approaching Hiro.

"So, why are they stalking me again?" Hiro asked nervously before briefly whipping around to see that the girls weren't within earshot.

Cass patted Hiro. "Oh, sweetie, they _like_ you. Why..." Aunt Cass tittered, "all that publicity in the news about you and your amazing inventions are bound to get you some notice! The girls aren't bothering you in any way, are they?"

"Well, it's been like two months, so you kinda get used to them. Sorta. Even though they can be slightly overbearing." Hiro shrugged. "I just don't understand girls."

Before Aunt Cass could reply, noise similar to that of static electricity crackled across the café. Everyone whipped their heads around at the source, which came from the thin television screen hanging on the wall. The current television program was being interrupted by another one, and an urgent one for that matter. The words BREAKING NEWS scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

"We interrupt our program for a newsflash on Action TV," the reporter on livestream announced. "We are receiving reports about yet another sequence of bombings in the downtown city region, followed by the mysterious disappearances of several people, most of whom have been reported to be famous scientists as well as inhabitants of San Fransokyo. The total number of casualties is over 200, summing it up to over 1000 casualties in over the year that similar events have taken place."

Hiro paled. _This would make it the fifth time in under a year that this is happening._

Behind Hiro, everyone else's eyes were glued to the screen. The fangirls' eyes, already largely amplified by their wide-rimmed glasses, grew even larger.

"While the SWAT team has yet to find and apprehend the terrorist masterminds behind this," the reporter said, "we have collected a clue that may warn us about the attackers' presence." Some shaky video footage popped up on a window next to the reporter as he spoke. Apparently some gutsy person videotaped the scenario as he ran backwards, causing his recording device to shake. It showed people screaming, running for their lives as the grand building collapsed in flames. Then the inexplicable happened: a deafening sound, like a cross between a clap of thunder and a sonic boom, resounded across the entire area. It immediately followed up with a brilliant flash of light behind the building and a visible wave that swept in omniverse directions; the wave's force knocked people off their feet and caused even more debris to pour down on them.

"Furthermore, the SWAT team admits that such phenomena occurred the during the previous four attacks," the reporter continued when the footage blinked out of sight. "One of their top agents, Mr. Michael Chen, also reports to have sighted a group of suspicious-looking individuals, hours before the official bombings. Mr. Chen, can you describe to us how they looked like?" The reporter finished and handed over the mic to Chen.

"My pleasure, sir," the burly agent spoke huskily. "So me and my men arrive earlier today when all 'this' happened," he said, gesturing with his hands at every syllable. "And since the bombing happened at the famous Kasumi Medical University, we rushed in and evacuated everyone out of the area. Then as I and some of my men rush inside the building to check for any survivors, I hear this eerie slippery sound behind me. I turn around – my men are on their backs and mysteriously unconscious. By some stroke of luck, I was still on my feet while looking for anything suspicious. And then I found a clue: through all that smoke and fire I saw several masked dudes zooming up the ceiling on some weird suspension ropes. And-" the agent's eyes widened at the screen as though to intensify his astonishment, "- their suits! They looked like modern-day ninjas, I swear! Except all shimmery-silvery, and they gave me this impression like the suits were _blending into the background_! In fact, I wouldn't have noticed them if they weren't in such a hurry..." the interviewee paused. "I ran to the roof to follow them while trying to signal more of my men, but of course, 'fore I could do much else, that crazy flash of light erupts outta nowhere, like the apocalypse itself, and an hour later, we receive another missing person report on Sophie Yi, former researcher and student at Kasumi Medical..."

"Ohhh, poor thing," Cass clicked her tongue with pity.

"...which confirms that the city of San Fransokyo truly has an unidentified criminal rampage on its hands," the reporter concluded. "Here, many of our viewers will, of course, wonder whether this famous team called Big Hero 6 is going to step up, unmask the villains' identities and save the day as they always do." Here the reporter looked slightly apologetic before continuing, "However, unsatisfied citizens are protesting that the superhero team is failing in its job to capture the terrorists the last five times they struck. Forms of protest includes street riots, failing to file in police reports that could help the heroes track down criminals, and even threatening to sue former superhero Stan Lee unless he puts a stop to the 6's crime-fighting activities. Due to this arising controversial issue, the San Fransokyo Public Security Agency has recently decreed an issue that thereof bans any unauthorized superhero activity-"

"Hiro, what's the matter?" Aunt Cass suddenly asked Hiro. For Hiro shot up from the table so abruptly that the shakers and sauce bottle tipped over.

"Er, um, sorry, Aunt Cass," he stuttered, and fidgeted. He couldn't focus under mixed pressure and fury. "Gotta run – er, my friends are waiting, d-don't wanna be late," he ended up chuckling.

"But, sweetie, you've barely even finished your-"

"Gotta run, I'll explain later!" Hiro replied in a high-pitched voice. And, slinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing Baymax by his chubby inflatable hand, Hiro scrambled out the door with Baymax behind, leaving behind his unfinished breakfast and a mildly puzzled Aunt Cass.

"Oh, um, ok!" Aunt Cass answered, flustered that her nephew didn't even bother to give her a good-bye hug. "Bye, dear!"

 _What has gotten into him?_ Aunt Cass wondered as she cleared Hiro's dish. _Is he...oh, this might sound crazy, but it's almost like he's hiding something from me. He wouldn't do such a thing...right?"_

Aunt Cass wasn't the only one to notice the rushed departure of the boy...

No one looked twice at the small, slim figure near the doorway of the café, seated and well-hidden behind a spread-out newspaper.

The stranger first lowered the paper and scrutinized Hiro's and Baymax's moving forms by zooming in to them via telescopic lens on a pair of eyeglasses; then the stranger turned on the communicator.

"Hey, Loon, ya loony bird, do you read me?"

"That's _Loon_ Choo to you! Don't you EVER call me a loon again!" came the indignant answer from the other end.

"Yea, whatever. Anyways, I'm calling to say that I found _them._ "

" _Them?_ As in-"

"Affirmative. Studied them for weeks. The short scruffy one is named Hiro Hamada, apparently leader of a superhero group they call Big Hero 6. His healthcare companion is Baymax."

"Good. Where are they now?"

"Out. He's meeting up with his superhero friends at SFIT."

"Good, good. Now, follow them for a little while longer and see how much more you can find out."

"Roger."

No one noticed the figure calmly lay down the newspaper and swiftly, quietly, stride out the café after Hiro and Baymax.

* * *

 **-And I'm BACK! Timeless, if you(and my other loyal readers) were wondering, no, I did NOT get wiped off the face of this planet, even though it might seem like it cuz I didn't update in a while. But no, life just interfered. :P**

 **-I've been bubbling with too much excitement while writing this, cuz BH6 is totally ruining/taking over my life! Know how I know? I watched Big Hero 6 eight times. EIGHT TIMES, ppl. And I rarely even watch movies twice! Talk about ultimate obsession :/**

 **Thanks for reading! Like the storyline so far? A yeah or nah from the readers would be appreciated. As would feedback.**

 **Toodles!**

 **KoolKat**


	3. Idle Chit-chat

Idle Chit-chat

A subway ride and five walking minutes later, Hiro jogged up the steps of the prestigious San Fransokyo Institute of Technology. The steps that never failed to shoot a thrill of excitement through Hiro every time he ascended them. He wouldn't have attended in the first place if his older brother Tadashi, late older brother that is, didn't introduce him to this "nerd" school, as Hiro used to call it. Here, Hiro, contrary to his previous belief that he held knowledge of all that any school could teach him, indeed learned something new each day. In the end, Tadashi's efforts to harness his brother's genius paid off. Now the the pride of the Institute and well-known figure in the world of technological breakthroughs, it was Hiro who was chosen today to uphold the big responsibility of performing a speech during the evening's showcase about one of SFIT's biggest and best presentations: the science of Baymax. Naturally, who better to sponsor for the presentation other than Hiro when hundreds of medical companies displayed much interest and enthusiasm for Tadashi's revolutionary invention? The fact that Hiro knew so much about this topic, having lived with Baymax for a while, also helped.

"Hiro! HIRO!"

Hiro whipped around to the all-too-familiar voices shouting out his name. His four classmates as well as team members that made up 4/6 of Big Hero 6 joined him up the steps and greeted him in their unique ways that so befitted their equally unique personalities. First came Wasabi, the burly, African-American neatnik; then Honey Lemon, an optimistic Latina with a 60's fashion flair; then Gogo Tomago, a tough-talking Korean adrenaline junkie decked out in purple highlights; and finally the unkempt comic book enthusiast and SFIT mascot Fred.

Wasabi gently ruffled Hiro's hair with a friendly, "How's it going, lil' man – how you feeling today? Excited? Nervous?" That caused Hiro to remember the event with another unpleasant swooping feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Awww, look! Hiro-baby's _muy nerviosos!_ " squealed Honey Lemon. She gave Hiro another one of her many tight and reassuring hugs. She was one of the few people whom Hiro didn't get annoyed at whenever he got hugged – he was actually kind of fond of Honey Lemon's cuddling – but today felt too chaotic for him not to mind. Wiggling out of Honey's grasp, he blurted out, "Guys, really! I'm going to be ok!"

"Sure you'll be," replied Gogo Tomago. She thumped Hiro on the back before nonchalantly blowing a bubble. "Woman up."

"Hey, Hiro, my man!" Fred cheerfully leaped over to Hiro and slapped him on the back. "You'll do awesome!"

" _Signs of anxiety include increased heart rate, muscular tension, and-"_ Baymax began.

"Guys, guys," Hiro stated firmly and waved them them down, though he couldn't resist a brief smile at his lovable friends before coming to business.

"So, as you guys may know, today's the day of our monthly team meeting."

Everyone grunted their acknowledgment, Honey Lemon expressing hers by nodding vigorously.

"And," Hiro continued, "just this morning, I heard on the news today that-"

Gogo stepped forward. "Before we go into any details," she interrupted, "I believe we have a, hmm, _rendez-vous_ , today. Remember?"

Hiro looked perplexed for a second, then his lips slowly formed a smirk as he remembered the "deal."

"No, surely," he chuckled, "you don't actually mean-"

"Yes. I. Mean it," Gogo growled, no-nonsense mood to the fullest. She reached into her carrier bag and pulled out her miniature handcrafted bot. "Botfight first. Then we talk."

* * *

"Come on, Gogo!" Honey Lemon squealed, bouncing up and down from her kneeling position.

"Te-e-e-am Gogo!" Fred cheered on, punching his fists in the air.

Honey Lemon, Fred, Baymax and Wasabi were clustered around Gogo, who sat cross-legged on the edge of the ring. Bot console in hand, she repeatedly smashed her thumbs against the controls while glaring nonstop at her own activated bot inside the ring and its opponent. Opposite her sat Hiro, looking pretty cocky indeed as his own bot mercilessly sliced through Gogo's in a trice.

"Ooooh..." the small crowd let out a groan while Gogo cursed.

"But I _told_ you," Hiro said as he collected the small pile of prizes that he and his friends betted on, which were mostly the single dollar bills from Fred and candy from the rest of the team, since the hosted bot fights weren't actually real, "you're dealing with an ex-bot fighter! I don't wanna brag, but no one has ever beat me in a bot fight. _No one_ , Gogo."

The rest of the team nodded their agreement, while Gogo furrowed at the ground, breathing heavily from the pressure, and didn't answer. This bot fight, hosted by Hiro and the team as a friendly icebreaker activity during monthly team meetings, has been active for two years already. No matter how much Gogo updated and advanced her bot, it always ended up scattered on the floor in front of her like fish fillet.

Most of the SFIT students fought against him. And failed. Even Fred, who wasn't a student here, tried his luck against the master botfighter and robotics whiz (Even though he relied on Hiro to build most of it). His bot lay in smithereens in two seconds flat. Honey Lemon also had a go, even though her major was chemistry, not robotics. Her bot, which strongly resembled a neon-pink fluffy kitty, detected the danger levels on Hiro's bot. It caterwauled and broke down on the spot. Everyone else received a good kick out of the comical scene while Hiro took pity on her and let the kitty-bot scamper away from the ring unharmed. And Wasabi was wise enough to not get involved.

But Gogo? Stubborn girl that she was, she refused to give up. And so she kept fighting. Very discouraging, even when Gogo incorporated more advanced forms of electro-mag-suspended weapons in her bot today, a concept based on her science experiment and supersuit, only for it to suffer the same fate as her previous bots.

"But you're getting better," Hiro pointed out. "Today, I daresay you almost beat me this time!"

"'Almost' doesn't cut it!" Gogo replied gruffly. "You just wait. I'm betting my money that there is someone out there who can beat you. Oh, and," Gogo smirked before blowing her bubble and popping it, "kudos if the person is a _girl._ "

The team laughed aloud at Gogo's comment, and Hiro nodded with another smirk, when suddenly, the translucent door swung open. An short, elderly Chinese man hobbled in backwards, lugging behind him a cartload of crates.

"Morning, my friends!" the elderly man bowed deeply to the team, his small eyes crinkling with joy as he smiled up at them.

"Hi-i!" the team chorused at him. Fred waved at the elderly figure with a "'Sup, Shang, how's it goin', man?"

"Shang Li humbly request where place this crates for you," Shang Li asked. He spoke with a thick accent and could be hard to understand sometimes, but the team loved Shang Li all the more for his endearing speeches. And not only – the worker served as the kindest, most lovable grandfatherly figure to the team. Even Fred and Honey Lemon, who got along extremely well, could be found secretly scuffling between each other for Shang Li's attention.

"Hey there, Shang Li!" Hiro greeted him brightly. "Just having another conference with my friends today." He, and then Wasabi, stepped up to the elder, took a crate from Shang's rough hands and helped him stack the rest of the crates up near the corner of his workstation, to which the latter rewarded them with more polite refusals and another set of bows.

"Actually, it's more of a nonstop competition between Mr. Winner-Take-All and Miss Competitive," Fred clarified before ducking away from the usual well-aimed punch by Gogo. He whispered, "Bot fight."

Shang Li dropped the crate with an expression of horror on his face. The crate's fall caused a momentary disturbing noise to ring around the room.

"Um, sir?" Hiro said quickly. "Sorry, but I think the spare parts for my latest humanoid robot project are in that crate; no offense but I'd be careful..."

"Shang Li, I know how much you dislike violence of any form including bot fights, but remember that I'm not involved in them!" Wasabi screeched at the same time. What Wasabi blurted out was the truth, and no one wanted to upset Shang Li.

Ironically, the one who seemed more concerned was Shang Li.

"So sorry, so sorry!" he repeated in his haste, apologetically bowing down to the young men. "Will bring tea, will bring tea straight away as way of apologize for interruption of important meeting, Hiro and Wasabi- _sifu_ must forgive old Shang Li!"

"Ummmmmmm..."

"Which tea you prefer? I have oolong, black, green-"

"Hey, do you have any passion tea?" Gogo asked, a hint of gruff in her voice.

Shang Li nearly toppled over in his rush to carry out his request. "Yes, _nushi_ Tanaka!" He turned to the rest of the team. "Do friends also want passion tea?" he asked with another warm smile.

"Yes!" they chorused.

"Good, good!" Shang Li chuckled, as though there was nothing else in the world that gave him more pleasure than serving tea to his friends. He bowed his way out of the room before everyone resumed the conversation.

"Why were you so rude to Shang Li, man?" Fred asked Gogo curiously.

"Yea," Wasabi added. "Was it my imagination, or are you rude to dear old grandpabbies like him?"

"That wasn't called 'rude', ok?" Gogo snapped at her teammates. "He apologized a million times over and asked us what we wanted and I said 'passion tea', ok? End of fuss. That said, I love Shang Li like my own grandfather."

"It's all right," Hiro reassured Gogo. "I know you love Shang Li. Who doesn't?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Gogo answered darkly. "A lot of people really dislike him because of his accent, because he acts clumsy whenever he's nervous...and because he's a utility service worker at SFIT, obviously."

"No way! He's so very nice to everyone!"

"And don't forget, for a fifty-eight-year-old, he's a genius!" Honey Lemon added. "He played a large role in inventing a fiber optic cable that increased data transmission rates to their max! Faster internet, you guys!"

"Forget fiber optic cables," Wasabi cut in. "Rumors are that his invention for next year's showcase will be some kind of endless energy source!"

What Shang Li really wanted was to become an electrical engineering major at SFIT. As a utility service worker for many years, he became one of the most skilled electricians in this field. He expressed to his friends his secret desire to attend and finish his education, which the team wholeheartedly encouraged him to do.

"Guys, guys!" Hiro waved his friends down. "Remember why we came here. Let's get back to business."

"You heard the man," Wasabi agreed. "Let's gather around, everyone."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, small teacups in hand filled with fragrant tea on the behalf of Shang Li, the Big Hero 6 team was huddled in a circle as they discussed and recapped their latest superhero exploits(Which explains why the gang couldn't pick Hiro up at the café, as they were too busy wrapping up their crime-fighting for today). Usually they met on a monthly basis, when they were filled to the brim about crime-fighting exploits they had to share.

Until now.

Hiro delayed the meeting for three months.

Judging from what he heard on the news this morning and the months before, Hiro had a reason to do so: Big Hero 6 wasn't doing so well.

For one, the lack of criminal reports from citizens.

Because those citizens started hating on the superheroes for some reason, thinking that some SWAT team could do a better job capturing some devilishly cunning villains.

 _But_ why _issue this decree when this city obviously needs superheroes to protect it?_ Why _all the hate?_ Hiro wondered.

As much as he tried to wrap his head around this matter, he could get neither heads nor tails of it.

"So anyways, Freddie here and I saved some lost Girl Scouts from being eaten by a bear!" Honey Lemon squealed dramatically. "Poor girls...but all I did was throw a few of my super-duper-sticky chemballs at the bear while Fred – uh, what _were_ you doing in the meanwhile, Fred?" Honey asked Fred with mild curiosity.

"I was, er, I was telling the gals to chill, cuz we got this all covered – yea, that's right!" Fred bobbed his head goofily. "I was showin' em my awesome costume and tellin' 'em how awesome our team is and that there's no crime that we can't fight!" he finished proudly.

"What a jerk," muttered Gogo.

Wasabi decided to speak up. He meant to partner up with Gogo, but after multiple heated arguments over how to work together, Wasabi and Gogo split up and dealt with whatever crime they could find for themselves. "Last month, did I mention that I captured a Fujita Girl? We had this huge combat in the alley. I think that heavyweight she sent at my chest cracked a rib or so, but in the end I knocked her out and sent her to the police. I don't think they managed to worm the location of the rest of her gang out of her yet, though..." he said in a small voice, hoping that no one would judge him if his accomplishment was too "small."

"Well done, Wasabi," Honey Lemon beamed and clapped, while Fred punched the air with a loud "Whoo, man!"

"And what about you?" Wasabi asked Hiro, who instantly snapped out of his train of thought. Hiro furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember an impressive superhero feat that he did.

 _Hmmm...the last one I did was with Baymax. So..._

"Baymax and I busted a small pharmaceutical company that has been framing another one for selling fake drugs," Hiro replied. "Took some hacking and a few other complications to blow their cover, but we did it. I think it was called, what, Okura Pharmaceutical?"

Hiro's answer was met with groans of jealousy and admiration.

Wasabi screeched, "Seriously? Okura Pharmaceutical always sells con medicines, but somehow it was always impossible to blow its cover! But you did it first! And not only! You proved another company innocent!"

"Yea!" joined in Fred. "I mean, how cool is that? Did you, like, get a prize or something?"

"An official congratulations from Court and a medal," Hiro replied, who couldn't resist a little smug smile. "Wanna see it?"

Gogo intervened. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, let us _not_ get ahead of ourselves. I thought that you, Hiro, had something better to do than brag."

Everyone fixed their eyes on Gogo and stared.

"Well, somebody's sure jealous," Wasabi explained quietly, trying to shy away from the tension.

"And what did _you_ do?" Fred asked Gogo with his usual goofy smile plastered to his face.

Gogo stared down her feet and didn't answer.

"Come on, Gogo, it never hurts to tell the truth," Hiro gently urged.

"If it's anything embarrassing, we promise we won't laugh," Honey added sweetly.

Gogo furiously stared down at her sneakers; then,

"I rescued a cat from a tree."

Nobody laughed, save for Fred, who guffawed over everything.

"Well, we are superheroes, and no deed is ever too unimportant to ignore," Hiro chuckled awkwardly. He slowly clapped, egging the others to do the same. "Even when you work alone, you work well, and we commend you, Gogo."

"But that's exactly why I'm so pissed!" Gogo burst out. She stood up from the small circle, her delicate little teacup falling off her lap and splitting on the floor. But Gogo didn't take notice. She glared daggers at her confused team as she furiously towered over them.

"Why," she continued ranting, " why, _why_ are we always splitting up these days? Is it really my fault that I'm stuck with a neat-freak every single time we partner up?" She glared at Wasabi, who sheepishly raised his shoulder blades up his neck. "And am I the only one who is noticing that we haven't had a proper meeting in three months? Three months! _And_ how I notice that our crime-fighting career is going down during that time? Less police reports! More secrecy! Hiro doesn't say anything! What is going on?"

"Um-"

"Basically, whatever the heck is happening, we are failing to save the lives of goodness-knows-how-many-people! Reports coming in about constant kidnapping from some lunatics, but we don't make an effort to track them down."

"Because the citizens of San Fransokyo themselves aren't making an effort to alert us about this," Hiro quickly pointed out.

"Exactly! _No one_ wants us anymore! It's like...no one needs us and no one _wants_ us. Am I correct, or _am_ I correct?" She paused to catch her breath before continuing in lower, less menacing voice, "You, Hiro, are the leader and genius mastermind of Big Hero 6. If this isn't Big Hero 6 I know and love, then," Gogo sighed, "I don't know what is. But since today is our meeting, then please. Explain."

For a woman of such few words, Gogo Tomago had much to express. Baymax confirmed this fact when he stated, _"Freedom of expression is healthy and even necessary for your emotional well-being."_

"Nice speech. Do another," Fred drawled.

Gogo aimed another hit at Fred, while Hiro calmly replied, "Look, I understand this confusion. So, let me explain." Hiro shifted himself closer into the circle, inhaled and broke out the news.

"I delayed the meeting for several months because...I suspect that people think we are bad at our superhero job and are trying to put us out of our career. Didn't want you guys to get involved with angry mobs."

Everyone simultaneously gasped, then exchanged several skeptical murmurs.

"It's true!" Hiro said. "Has anyone watched the news today?"

When everyone shook their heads no, Hiro quickly filled them in.

"And this new law, and the drastically decreasing police files, and the street riots – argh!" Hiro grabbed a fistful of his hair while pacing around his lab. "I know it doesn't make much sense but – but-"

"At a time like this?!" Gogo growled. "Some supervillains are endangering people's lives as we speak, and the Security-whatsits-Agency is trying to shut us down?"

"Don't forget, it's the citizens who want to shut us down, too," added Wasabi.

Fred, unlike everyone else, was anything but anxious.

"Hey, new villains and new missions! Whoo!" The fanboy crowed. Then his face contorted into confusion. "Wait, can someone tell me who the villains actually are?"

"So what's the plan?" Wasabi asked apprehensively, who cooperated better with plans.

"Prove to San Fransokyo that we are not as useless as everyone thinks," Hiro replied simply. Then his eyebrows furrowed. "Actually, if we're going to prove anything to them, we have to-"

"-catch the bad guys in the silvery suits," Fred finished for him. "Then San Fransokyo will see just how cool we are, and then we're back in the game!"

Hiro snapped his fingers as the remark struck home. "Exactly!"

"The good that would do," Wasabi grumbled. "They put up the decree to ban us supers. Besides, they're too hard to track down. No one thinks we're up for the job."

"But we've still got to try," Hiro persisted. He turned to Honey Lemon.

"Can you find any more information about those bad guys?" he asked her.

Honey was probably already on the case, because a few seconds later, she spun her mini laptop around to face Hiro.

"Here you go!" she trilled happily. "Couldn't find any information on the _who_ , but the _when_ and the _what,_ I could."

A webpage popped up in front of the screen. Hiro and the rest of the gang peered closer at it.

The link was a newslink, and an old one at that, having dated back thirteen years ago. The headline read, **Massive Artificially Intelligent Robot Causes Third Wave of Destruction in San Fransokyo.**

Hiro quietly read the lines underneath.

"Sounds like a typical robot invasion," he muttered. "But _wait_ – here it is..."

Words like "silvery armor" and "stealthy" caught his eye as he scrolled down.

 _The weird silver suit guys were present there, too._

He scrolled further down the page, when suddenly,

"Guys!" Fred cried out. He pointed at the screen. "Know what that is?"

"What?" everyone asked confusedly.

" _The Silver Epidemic,_ " Fred answered dramatically. "One of the unsolved crimes that took place. Dad told me about this! It was a crisis not unlike this one, when people were kidnapped right and left by a top-secret organization, the name and origin of which is unknown even today, as are its real intentions. Then the kidnapping stopped. But the worst part came when they unleashed a super duper evil robot that stormed through the city, fighting and destroying..." Fred paused as through for dramatic effect, "SUPERHEROES!"

"What?!" shrieked Wasabi. "There were other supers besides us?! How did I not know about that?!"

"Because," continued Fred in the same creepy-dramatic voice, "Although the bad guys and the bot were felled, so were the multiple heroes who saved our city..." Fred's voice became distant as he sniffled in remembrance. "The reason you don't hear much about them is because others either went into hiding to avoid causing any more superhero controversy like today, or retired, like Dad."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Honey Lemon sympathetically. She patted Fred's shoulder. "And for your Dad."

Fred waved it off. "It's ok, Dad was feelin' his age anyways."

"So let me get this straight," Hiro intervened. "There were _other_ supers?"

"Yep!" Fred replied.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I did! You just didn't believe me! Like remember when I told you about Hotshot and his fire-blazing weapons? True story."

"Huh," grunted Gogo. "And I thought that came from your usual comic book tosh."

Hiro waved his friends down. "Yes, yes, very interesting, but we can discuss that later. I found something interesting here..."

Hiro pointed at the writing: " _The main targets of those mysterious plunderers were, surprisingly, the multiple universities located in downtown San Fransokyo. Victims reported to be missing were either renowned scientists or acclaimed superheroes, mostly identified to be both."_

Wasabi and Fred simultaneously wolf-whistled.

"Scientists and supers..." Hiro repeated thoughtfully. "What stumps me is why _this_ category of people? What do the bad guys want with them? Why, _why_ them? What have supers ever done wrong?" Hiro repeatedly ran his hands through his hair as the new unsolvable questions arose.

 _Think, Hiro, think! You're a genius, for goodness' sakes, and you know it!_

"Uh, Hiro?" Honey Lemon called out uncertainly, looking up from her laptop. "You might want to hear me out on this: have you noticed how the series of attacks are happening mostly in San Fransokyo's most prestigious universities? And that Kasumi University is the closest one to us? Do you think it could mean that-"

"-that SFIT is next?" Hiro finished. He spoke softly, but the final words rung in the air as clearly as though they were shouted out. All was still as everyone took in the news of the potential danger, mentioned by the observant Honey Lemon.

Hiro straightened.

"Listen up, guys," he said in a brisk commanding voice – the one he learned to use back in their superhero heydays. "The villains could strike anytime soon. Maybe even this evening, when tons of people shall show up for the showcase. We need to be ready. We need-" his brows furrowed, "-our upgrades. Doesn't matter what the old decree says. We vowed, on the behalf of my late brother-" Hiro's face fell at the memory, "-to protect our city and all of its citizens! Who's with me?"

No one said anything at first; then, Hiro felt a strong grip on his shoulder. He looked up: Gogo, who laid finger-gloved hand on his shoulder, peered down on the young teen and winked seriously.

"I am," she declared. "And this time, we're gonna be ready."

Hiro's confidence and spirits lifted slightly when the rest of the team joined in, persisting that no matter what, Big Hero 6 shall live on.

 _If we dealt with and fought many other crimes in the city, we can hold off this one,_ Hiro thought. _There is no crime that Big Hero 6 can't fight..._

 _Right...?_

* * *

The listener in the next room, whose eyes had widened upon overhearing the students' striking conclusions via wall microphone, instantly switched on the communicator.

 _Hm. Deduction skills they may have, but we still got the upper hand._

 _Now, what time did Loon Choo say the presentation started again...?_

* * *

 _ **-**_ **Lucky I got this extra chapter up my sleeve, so I can post it sooner, hehe...**

 _ **-Sifu***_ **–** **skilled worker, or master, in Chinese.**

 _ **Nushi***_ **–** **same as saying "Miss" or "Ms."**

 **\- Yes, I know, KoolKat,** ** _I know_** **I'm not cut out for writing complicated science-fiction fantasy such as this. But I just...argh...can't...help...it! So...exciting...to...write... Lol, look who's having an internal argument with self again.**

 **-The name of this chapter is meant to be ironic, by the way. ;)**

 **\- Thanks for reading!**

 **4Eva KoolKat**


	4. Plan of Attack

Plan of Attack

"Hiro- _sifu_ , are you all right?" Shang Li cried out in worry when Hiro accidentally zapped himself for the third time with electricity.

Hiro nodded brusquely. "I'm fine, Shang," he said, even though his demeanor proved otherwise. His hands slightly shook as he tried to connect his projectors. His usually scruffy hair was slick from sweat, and he kept mixing up the right cables for each outlet.

"Damn."

He was surprised at himself: he was the lead expert on electrical engineering in his school, and here he was, cursing and struggling to plug some cable together. Oh, that's right, he was too nervous to see what he was doing with his hands.

"Here, let me help. Hiro rest for presentation," said Shang Li.

"Oh, no, no, no..."

"I insist!" Shang Li reached for the provisions in Hiro's hands.

"Oh well..." Hiro surrendered the tangled cords to Shang Li and picked himself up from the floor to walk around, take a breather, and to just pull himself together. He and Baymax occupied a small space in the corner of the crowded SFIT Summer Expo, taking place in what is now the Tadashi Hamada Hall. All the better for Hiro, who had enough solitude to mentally prepare for his upcoming presentation, rather than mingle among the bustle of nerds and tech gurus, scientists and college students alike this evening.

Hiro half-heartedly waved back at some passing admirers who recognized him(He really was a more prominent figure than he himself knew!). Pacing around in circles, he was just toying with the temptation to activate Baymax and bury his head into the plush robot's belly and pour his soul out, but suddenly, a medley of voices emanated from Hiro's wrist watch cell phone, followed by the occasional spurts of the sound of static electricity.

"Hiro!" from Honey Lemon.

"You feelin' alive, little man?" from Wasabi.

"Good luck, Hiro!" Fred cheered. "Your presentation will be a blast – just like that microbot one from two years ago!"

"Don't die," said Gogo shortly.

"Th-thanks Freddie...b-but I dunno how good..." Hiro trailed off nervously.

"Re- _lax,_ Hiro, it'll be fun!" Honey Lemon said as comfortingly as she could. "The entire newscasting crew will be here to record you live this evening! Think about it!"

Hiro tried very hard not to procure the mental image of his limp body, completely passed out into Baymax's plushy hands, on TV.

 _Deep breaths, Hiro, deep breaths. Tadashi would-_

No. _No._ It was too painful to think about right now. So instead, he turned away from the crowd mass, reduced the volume of the speaker and spoke into the watch in a hushed voice. "Well, you read my mind," he replied, laughing shakily. "But really, the presentation isn't the only thing I'm worried about right now..."

"You mean...?" began Wasabi.

"U-huh."

"Well, nothing like a good back-up plan should anything happen this evening!" said Honey Lemon optimistically.

"Exactly," said Hiro. "Listen, let's run over our plan one more time, 'kay? Everybody at their own stations?"

"U-huh!". The "stations", as the nerd herd called them, were booths that each team member showcased for their Expo projects.

Honey Lemon showcased a barista station purely comprised of chemicals and, as a bonus, transformed any edible chemicals and simple kitchen ingredients into yummy snack samples in petite disposable cups to share with the public.

Gogo showcased her longtime project – a electro-mag suspension bike. The display, called the Velocepede Revolution, included a mini-runway for the bike and an interactive display screen behind the stage where Gogo would demonstrate her project in greater depth.

Wasabi, neat-freak that he was, showcased some useful "clean" household supplies like disinfectant gloves, a model of a self-sterilization door handle, and pollution-cleaning potted plants.

Fred, since he wasn't officially a student of SFIT, stood by the doors in his kaiju mascot costume and twirled a promotional SFIT billboard. On top of that, everyone had to keep their supersuits hidden nearby them, except for Gogo, who integrated parts of her suit into the bike.

"Good. Now remember, keep a lookout for anything, or anyone, suspicious."

"And how are we gonna do that when we're stuck on showcase duty?" Gogo asked irritably.

"Let me explain. My first plan is to trace any bombs that may be hiding here. I reviewed from nuclear physics last semester all the types of detectors that can come in handy, since we don't know how technologically advanced these bombs can be. Take, for instance, the Elitzur-Vaidman hypothetical bomb tester. The plasmon laser sensor. Or even trace-detection portal machines, like the ones they use at airports. But I needed one powerful enough yet with a small enough database to fit into Baymax's access port, so I invented one that can...oh," Hiro ended with a sigh. Because the more he talked, the louder Fred's messy beat-boxing burst through his speaker. No wonder: Hiro's perpetual nerdy lectures were becoming mind-numbingly boring to anyone without scientific genius – in this case, Fred.

"Cut to the chase already," Gogo intervened sharply.

"Oops. Right," Hiro said, slightly blushing."Anyways, you guys stay at your stations and do what you should normally do. Meanwhile, I will activate Baymax. I've installed a bomb detector into his database, so he can scan detect any radiation emitted off any types of hidden bombs within the perimeters of the building. So when I identify them, I will defuse them, or I'll get Shang Li to do this if we don't have enough time. Fred did say that this super-villain organization has a knack for gadgets like those, right, Fred?"

"Yup. Dad theorized that these dudes have a rep for being one of the most merciless – and sneakiest – terrorists out there. I mean, yea, scary when you think about it, but how cool?" Fred's voice drawled through the watch.

"And is that going to be enough to catch them, genius?" Gogo asked skeptically.

"No," Hiro replied. "Which is why I also upgraded Baymax with an infrared camera together _with_ the bomb detector. If the person is carrying those said explosives or any other nuclear weapons with him, all the easier for us to identify him."

"Ooh, now tell 'em about my theory!" Honey Lemon chimed in.

"Right. You know how those spies, or whatever they are, were seen in those silvery-suits?"

"Yes – yes!" Honey Lemon continued for him. "Well, I re-watched some of the footage with them in it. And Hiro, their suits! I hypothesized that they are made of _steel alloy armor._ "

"Yes. So bonus if our infrared cameras can identify them in those suits."

"Um, they probably won't?" Gogo said sharply. "They're not that stupid to go masquerading around as the bad guys."

"But remember the TV news, when the guy said that they blended into their surroundings. Anyways, I'm not just saying they can be inside the building. I upgraded Baymax so that he can scan any place within a five-mile range."

"Ohh..."

"The infrared camera can't sense such metal very well, so when it passes through those poorly-scanned points, I'll go check out this place of interest and snoop around, maybe. When, and if, I see someone weird, I'll send you a signal and tell you where the target is located. Fred, tell us what you'll do next."

"I'll alert the SWAT to arrest the guy, and the army corps to scale every inch of this building! And the FBI can investigate the rest of the case," Fred replied.

"SWAT? Army? You hired _them_?" Gogo said disbelievingly. "Talk about all hell breaking loose."

"They're surveying the building as we speak," Fred said calmly. "But to them we're just a bunch of nerds who predicted the next raid, so don't worry about them finding out our identity."

"Good. And then, what next?" Hiro continued.

"Use our amazing powers to capture the maniacs and turn them over to the officials! Then people will see us for who we are and love us!" Honey squealed optimistically

Wasabi sighed longingly over the blissful notion of ending this sticky job at last. "Whoops, I got a presentation starting here, Hiro. Wasabi, out."

"Same, because I technically look _very_ stupid talking to myself here," Gogo said heatedly as onlookers saw her supposedly murmuring to herself from up the stage. "Gogo, out."

Shang Li shuffled towards Hiro by the time the boy genius had also switched off. "Hiro, I fix your projectors, they ready now."

Hiro, staring fixedly at the ground, dumbly nodded. Shang Li understood.

"You need help, you call me anytime – call me, eh?" He edged closer to Hiro. "Superhero duties, again, eh?" Shang Li politely inquired. He was one of the few outside of the team who knew about Big Hero 6. Why he refused to be actively involved in their plans was still a mystery. But trusting him with the secret wasn't a bad idea. It was he who came up with and invented an alarm system that wired the news and police station lines into the two main Big Hero 6 headquarters – Hiro's garage and Fred's mansion. And he was always there for moral support…

Shang Li was shorter than Hiro, so he looked up to him, gently gripped the boy's arms, gave it a little shake, and opened his mouth to say something. However-

BOOM. Electric sparks rose and scattered into the air.. The crowd shrieked and dispersed, and some technicians sprinted to the other side of the room. Muffled curses and shouts of a machine short circuiting filled the scene. Luckily, the damage didn't look too serious.

"Oh, no; gotta help!" Shang Li cried, picking up his rusty tool box and jumping into action. He turned to Hiro briefly. "But good luck on mission – and presentation! I out of here!"

 _Right,_ Hiro thought, furrowing his eyebrows with fresh determination when Shang Li disappeared around the corner. He swiftly activated Baymax before lifting away a plastic cover off his hidden supersuit cleverly tucked away behind Baymax's case and twisting on his left glove.

"You know what to do, Baymax," Hiro said as the plushy robot inflated into his balloon form.

"Radiation detector initiated. Infrared camera initiated. Biosensors initiated," said Baymax matter-of-factly before sweeping his superimposed scanners over the building.

Meanwhile, Hiro flipped open a cover on his left glove and checked a small computer screen. It was synced to Baymax, so the latter could transmit his findings into the computer interface. Very handy for locating Baymax and reading his data transmissions.

 _Okay… the grid of the building is forming…the vital readings of everyone else are the red specks… the green specks are meant to be bombs. No green specks now...ahah, I see one! Oh wait, I remember. Some of my nuclear physics classmates have put some model of a futuristic nuclear reactor display, so duh, of course they'll experiment with similar materials that bombs are made out of. Nothing to worry about..._ Such scattered thoughts ran subconsciously through Hiro's mind as he swiped his finger across the interface.

 _I don't see any red dots so far. I wonder if there's really anything to worry about tonight, after all?_

A familiar voice jolted him into attention.

"Ah, if it isn't Hiro again."

The voice of the last person that Hiro wanted to see right now.

"Oh, hey, Mr. Krei," Hiro said in his best casual voice, to the tech guru and CEO of Krei Tech approaching him, flanked by two of his assistants. At the same time, Hiro slapped the computer flap shut, hid his glove-encased hand behind his back and twisted it off from there, praying that Krei didn't notice. Yes, it was true that Alistar Krei knew the team's identities, and he swore to keep their secret, but even then, Hiro didn't want anyone to intervene.

"Excellent robot you have there, Hiro. To think that such programming will have such a efficacious effect on the health and outlook so many. Think of how positively this piece of programming will affect humanity for who knows how long!" Krei continued, hungrily examining Baymax from head to toe. "Rumors are that you and that robot will be on multiple news channels by tomorrow – yes, yes, you're somewhat like a celebrity in the technological world…"

"Um, yea," Hiro murmured awkwardly, not sure what to make of the needless praise while Krei carried on. It wasn't as if Krei even cared so much for Hiro's fame. Krei, after all, was an entrepreneur who capitalized on any new brilliant invention for his own use. With Baymax as a potential to revolutionize the healthcare industry, Krei was apt to largely profit in this way.

Hiro politely nodded, but all the while thinking, _Please,_ please _stop telling me how smart I am! Don't you have something better to do like…inspect the thing that went kaput on the other side of the room?_

"Just here to wish you good luck," Krei concluded. "You'll need it for the presentation."

 _Well, for such a rocky history between us, you sure sound pretty confident about yourself,_ Hiro thought dully.

"Mr. Krei!" A lady stumbled over to Krei. Petite and eccentric with her shock of radiant purple hair and horn-rimmed glasses, she clutched a cordless mic in one hand and a virtual notebook in the other.

"Yes?" asked Alistar Krei, mildly surprised.

"Sir!" the ditsy-looking lady replied. "I'm Alicia Roquefort, reporter from the _San Fransokyian Times_. Do you know where I can find a young man by the name of Hiro Hamada?"

At the sound of his name, Hiro wildly shook his head and waved his hands at Krei with a don't-involve-me-into-this look. Unfortunately, Krei, before he fully understood what Hiro's hand signals meant, he said at the same time with a chuckle, "Oh, Hiro? Why, yes, yes, he's right over here. I was just talking to him, and saying-"

"Hey!" Alicia sharply cut him off, snapping her fingers and beckoning a group lingering in the background. "Over here, y'all, I found 'im!"

Before Hiro could register what was truly happening to him, an entire fleet of news reporters, carried/dragged heavy television cameras, cables, mics, and more armada of high-tech TV gear, stampeded into view and surrounded him on both sides with mics. All of them shot questions at him from every side

"Is it true that your dead brother was the first to invent this robot?" one reporter shouted, shoving a microphone in his face.

"How do you think Baymax will affect the healthcare industry?"

"WHAT DEGREE ARE YOU PLANNING TO PURSUE WHEN YOU GRADUATE?"

"How old are you, really?"

"If your brother were here, how do you think he'd feel about your rising prominence?"

"Can you tell me more about robots?"

"I-I-um-uh," Hiro stuttered. In a nutshell, one of his worst nightmares was unraveling in front of him: the blindingly bright camera lights flashing at him, the clamor of a million news reporters striving to know every single little detail about him, and the knowledge that _everything he said was being recorded right now!_ Oh, and that they treated his late brother like a fleeting legacy. Hiro spared a glance across over the throng to throw an exasperated look at Krei.

"Sorry!" Krei mouthed, smiled guiltily and put up his palms in sincere apology.

* * *

 _A machine that predicts short circuits…actually short circuited?_ Gogo thought, smirking in amusement as she watched security hosing down the fire with extinguishers. _Talk about irony. And stupidity._

 _I wonder how Hiro's doing._ From the stage, Gogo lifted her visor to look over to her friend. There he was, surrounded by news reporters ("Paparazzi, more like," thought Gogo), looking like he was about to have a conniption.

Gogo sighed. Looks like she'll have to cover for him.

Gogo jerked her head up. No one suspicious at the booth. Just a few passersby lazily admiring the piece of tech.

 _Wait a minute._

There – she saw it out of the corner of her eye: a hooded figure stood half-hidden behind a transparent interactive glass screen. The figure tapped on what looked like a glasses rim. A small flash, like a camera's, flashed in Gogo's directon; then, the figure glanced furtively around and lifted a glove-encased hand, as though to speak into an imaginary phone.

 _Now wait a minute, you stalker..._

* * *

"Have you ever felt socially inferior to others your own age?"

"Were you bullied at a young age?"

"Are you still grieving over your older brother?"

"Baymax, how does it feel to be recorded on live TV? Nervous? Excited?" one reporter even asked Baymax.

"I cannot feel: excitement or nervousness. I am a robot," Baymax stated blankly. "However, according to Hiro, I have gained a: personality. It exists outside of my own programming."

"Would you describe yourself as the 'timid' type?"

Clearly the questions were only getting more provocative.

So Hiro decided to at least throw a little sass into their faces.

"Oh, yea, who says I'm timid?" he said assertively.

"Is it true that you are working on a doctorate degree in robotics?" One reporter immediately threw at him.

"Why, actually, yes," Hiro said smugly. He shot all-knowing look at the reporter. "Are you?"

Hiro would've loved to relish the reporter's reaction to that, but at that moment, his cell-watch beeped and the speaker crackled.

"You guys had better head over here _now_!" Gogo's voice crowed triumphantly through the watch. "I just captured a spy!"

* * *

 **WHAT. Has it really been four months since I last updated here? *Facepalm***

 **THANKS FOR READING, WHOEVER'S STILL READING THIS! THIS TIME, I GUARANTEE THAT MY NEXT UPDATE WILL BE WAY SOONER!**


	5. Assault

Assault

Hiro felt trapped. Somehow, he had to skedaddle out of here but the TV crew, or the paparazzi more like, obstructed every inch of his pathway to freedom.

"Um, help?" Hiro said weakly. "I mean, no offense but I'm in the middle of a crisis..."

"Hiro!" Gogo growled. "You get your butt – OK, OK, quit whining, Wasabi – _bum_ over here somehow! Nasty little blighter refuses – to – surrender – ugh!" Sounds of strained grunts and scuffling came from the other side of the watch.

Hiro didn't need telling twice.

"Excuse me – Sorry – Coming through!" He plunged through the small crowd with all his strength. He did knock over several camera crewmen, making them squawk with surprise, but he was through.

"Coming, Gogo!" he cried into the watch as he rushed pell-mell to her direction. "Fred," he commanded, "get some backup! This might get messy, the way Gogo's going at it!"

"Right on, dude!"

Hiro veered around several more corners before coming to a stop in front of Honey and Wasabi, both peering down concernedly over a rasping Gogo, who was standing and had one elbow hooked tightly around the assumed spy's throat.

Except it didn't look _anything_ like a spy. Number one: the "spy" was a preppy-nerdy girl with a kid-size blazer, tie and matching skirt, glasses and brownish hair tied into pigtails. Number two: she was pitifully flailing around as she vainly attempted to wiggle out of Gogo's tight grip.

"What- h-how is that-" Hiro started.

"Oh, for goodness' sakes, let the girl breathe!" cried Honey Lemon.

Gogo reluctantly loosened her grip on the child, but immediately after doing so, the girl let out a long, piercing scream of agony. Consequentially, a pitch-sensitive glass display nearby shattered, causing the owners of the project to swear in Swahili language. The nearest passerby paused to exchange a few murmurs of charging child abuse against the punk choking the screaming child.

"LET GO OF HER!" Wasabi roared, hands over his ears.

Gogo clapped her hand over the girl's gaping mouth. The girl stopped screaming, but she whimpered like any child under shock.

"I-I-I didn't mean to," she whined, covering her face and sitting down on the floor. "T-tell her, someone, I swear I didn't!"

"It's okay, sweetie," Honey Lemon murmured and knelt down to stroke the girl's head. "I'm not gonna let this meanie hurt you. It's okay, hon..."

"Don't touch her!" Gogo said sharply.

"Okay, can you _please_ explain what happened here?" Hiro intervened. "And how-" he gestured to the girl kneeling on the floor, "-in the name of sanity is that a spy?"

"First, she took a picture of me! Know what she did next?" Gogo threw the child's glasses over to Hiro.

"So?" Hiro shrugged. "What's your problem with an innocent-"

"Spy specs video glasses," Gogo said promptly. "I studied those types when I was still a freshman, and _this_ type of brand is definitely not just a toy."

The brunette shook her head so hard that her pigtails flopped about her face like puppy-dog ears.

"No-o!" she wailed. "It's not true! My brother built me these glasses to take pictures with them! And I was always such a huge fan of you and your maglev bike, Gogo!" and she broke down wailing.

"Yeah. Sure," Gogo muttered sarcastically. "You _ran away_ when I chased after you."

"But you looked so mad!" the girl wailed.

"Does she look like she's working for spies?!" Honey Lemon cried in defense.

"Whose side are you on?" Gogo spat.

"Settle down, guys! Maybe she knows something! Can't we just ask the girl a few questions?" Hiro cried, wringing his hands.

"O-oh, I don't like confrontations!" Wasabi moaned.

Everyone argued at the same time. Tempers were high, and it may have reached boiling point if not suddenly for an,

"OI!"

The gang swung around. Fred, suit and all, came running, flanked by five SWAT men with machine guns.

"It's Fredzilla to the rescue!" Fred whooped. He pulled down his kaiju head costume and peered around. "So which one of you is the evil spy?"

"Um-"

"Er-"

"Well..." Hiro started out hesitantly. The nerd herd slowly pointed their fingers at the brunette, who groveled and increased her wailing.

 _She's a pitiful sight,_ Hiro thought. _I really think Gogo outdid herself on this one._

"I don't...get it," Fred said blankly.

Awkward silence.

"I need a beer," one of the armed men finally groaned. "C'mon men, let's move on!"

The SWAT team dispersed. But not before one of them grabbed Fred by the scruff and lifted him high enough that so that Fred had to stand on his tippy toes.

"One more false alarm like this from you, Frederick Lee, and your nerd friends," the guard hissed, " _one more..._ " he finished his threat by shoving Fred backwards, causing him to tip over in his suit and roll over backwards several times.

"But I-I-wait!" Gogo spluttered, too angry for words.

"Hey, don't bother, Gogo," Fred told her after he was helped back up to his feet by Wasabi and Hiro. "They're just being sad saps 'cause they keep losing the bad guys' trails." He paused for a moment. "And I won't lie about the 'beer' part."

"You guys okay?"

The gang turned around once more, this time to see Alistar Krei and pretty young lady with a stylish green dress, black pumps and a lab coat approaching them, both of them looking generously concerned.

"SO sorry about the ruckus back there," Krei immediately apologized. "You know, I told them, I distinctly told them those buggers...oh, Hiro, do forgive me-"

Hiro nodded with a(rather forced) smile to show that it was all right.

"You guys okay?" The woman said worriedly, who was none other than Abigail Callaghan, the dean of SFIT and the first person to have gone through a portal (What happened at that time is a different story). "Some concerned stranger tipped me off about a fight." She glanced peered over at the little girl and Gogo, who looked like she wanted nothing more than to knock the soppiness out of the whiny brunette.

The girl drew in a long gasp when her watery eyes fell upon Abigail.

"Ohmygosh, it's that famous scientist who crossed dimensions!" the girl squealed, her eyes so huge that it made Hiro automatically think: _Fangirls._

"Hi! I'm nine, and I'm a hu-u-uge fan of technology robots and technology and SFIT and your positively amazing theories on portals!" she continued.

"And guess what?" she rambled on. "I know stuff like quantum physics! And I really really really wanna get into SFIT soon, too! Oh, and I'm Marsha Tanner, by the way!" The girl stuck out her hand to Abigail.

"Oh, um, yeah, okay!" Abigail chuckled, not sure what to think of her fan and enthusiast. She awkwardly shook the girl's hand.

"You don't look as young as nine," Gogo said suspiciously.

"Break it up, you guys!" Abigail cut in, laughing. "Hiro, I came to find you and tell you that Shang Li has helped finish up the extra touches on your presentation and you have to get up there in _less than five minutes!"_

Hiro felt the pummeling sensation in his stomach again.

"First of all, Gogo, you may let go of the girl now," Abigail continued gently. Gogo, who grabbed the girl by the arm as though to twist it, reluctantly let go. The girl sighed with relief, bashfully waved at Abigail once more, threw a last terrified look at Gogo, and ran off.

"And Hiro, come here."

When Abigail took Hiro aside, she said in a low voice, "Now, are you guys _sure_ you don't have a problem?"

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Krei added.

"Yes, thanks, guys!" Hiro chuckled nervously. "Just a little, erm..." he stalled when he didn't know how explain to both grownups what he was doing without revealing his plans, "...mistake. But don't worry, everything's good!"

"Good." Abigail smiled encouragingly, patting him on the shoulder. She was also one of the other few to be let in on the whole Big Hero 6 secret, but like with Krei, Hiro kept his plan secret. "Is Aunt Cass coming today?"

"Nope, she has to work late today. But she promised to tune in to watch me perform on TV."

"Oh! Sounds good!" Abigail replied. "Well, good luck on the presentation!"

 _Yea. I'll really need that. And some,_ Hiro thought gloomily as both grownups walked away.

"Hiro." The team ran crowded over to Hiro.

"Yea, yea, yea" said Hiro monotonously, "I'm doing _fine,_ thank you very much. I already told Abigail and-"

"It isn't that," Gogo replied. "We obviously didn't detect any foreign bombs, and we couldn't track anyone down on the map. And our ultimate "bad guy" was a whiny little wannabe. What's the next plan?"

"I didn't think our plan would turn out like this. I mean, I swear the virtual map should have located them," he muttered. However, seeing the impatient look in Gogo's eyes, he quickly replied, "But yes, I have a new plan. Stay at your stations. Gogo, I sent you the map; Baymax's senor is synced to your visor, so he will update you on any more findings. All of you, keep searching for any possible intruders. Alert the SWAT if need be."

"Got it!"

"Meanwhile-" furrowed his eyebrows, "-I have another problem to deal with. _Stage fright._ "

* * *

"...please welcome our honorable guest today, Hiro Hamada!"

The crowd cheered wildly as the announcer slunk off to the side and Hiro slowly made his way on stage on the stand with a mic, his projectors on a stand, and with Baymax standing on his left.

"H-hi," he blurted out. "My name's Hiro Hamada. A-and I would like to introduce to you a robot that will revolutionize the healthcare industry – Baymax."

As if on cue, Baymax, raised his waved his hand in a circular motion and said amiably, "Hello, I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion."

 _Good sakes,_ Hiro thought, hearing the blood roaring in his ears, _The crowd isn't big today._

 _It's_ really _big._

 _I'm too famous, curse me._

But before he really could faint on TV, he gathered all his mental strength and forced himself to think back to two years ago, when he was about to present his Mircrobot project...when he had so little confidence back then...when Tadashi was still there to support him...

Tadashi...

" _All right, bro, this is it," Tadashi said, reaching out for a fist bump. Come on, don't leave me hangin'." His face fell when he saw Hiro's downcast expression. "What's going on?"_

 _Fourteen-year-old Hiro stared straight ahead, not replying at first. "I_ really _wanna go here," he said finally._

" _Hey." Tadashi put his hand on Hiro's shoulder. "You got this," he said with the most brotherly smile._

Even now, Hiro thought about Tadashi. His warm smile, and what he would say if he were here...

"You crying, young man?" one person called out from the crowd.

Hiro gave a small gasp. As he snapped back to reality, tears welled up in his eyes. No, _by no means_ should he cry. Luckily, this gave him an idea on how to start his presentation.

"Forgive me," he answered, unabashedly wiping his tears with his sleeve. "The story behind Baymax is a admittedly bittersweet. You see, my late brother was the one to invent this robot, not me..."

* * *

"Everyone in position?"

"Affirmative."

"Check."

"Yope."

"Duh, Loon Goose, I've been undercover, like, forever already. Let's rev up the action already, shall we?"

"Why, you...! You know what, I'll deal with you later. _You,_ Rae, have you located our target?"

"Pinned down with a hypodermic nano-tracker. Why else do you think I shook Callaghan's hand?"

"Heh-heh, good one. Especially that nerdy-girl fake-out you gave all of 'em. Anyways, I will fly back and fire up the portal. The rest of you – you know what to do. Meet me at the portal when you've completed your objective. On my mark..."

* * *

Five minutes into the presentation, Hiro's tenseness eased up a little. He was getting the hang of hearing his own voice resound around the room, thought he still didn't relish the idea of being recorded live on TV.

Five minutes into the presentation, Hiro switched from the short summary of Baymax's emotional importance to him, to demonstrating Baymax's abilites.

"He is programmed with over 10,000 different medical procedures," he said after having Baymax scan him and display Hiro's symptoms on stage from a holographic projector. "As you can see here-"

"My scanners detect a sign of steel alloy," Baymax interrupted. "However, an unknown interface is blocking me from fully intercepting these signals."

 _Ohmygoodness, did Baymax just locate those supervillains?_

"Pay no attention!" Hiro said loudly. "This wasn't part of the presentation." To Baymax to whispered through corner of his mouth, "Thanks, Baymax, but you can send Gogo your readings now..."

Praying that Baymax would comply and Gogo and the team would get to this exciting discovery soon, Hiro continued. "So as you can see here-"

BOOM.

Hiro didn't have time to think, nor blink, nor react. He assumed that something must've knocked him out for a minute, because when he came to, he was lying face-down on the stage floor, his ears still ringing from the boom.

That boom. It sounded like an explosion.

Hiro got to his knees. All his senses were caught by surprise. Smoke filled his lungs and choked him. The ominous red glow of a fire burned in one part of the building. And everywhere, people were screaming for their lives and flooding over to the nearest emergency exits. No one seemed to remember a certain boy lying half-buried among the disassembled rocks.

 _Deja vu..._

Just the thought that he was likely to suffer the same fate as his brother had a likelier chance to knock him over than the poisonous stench around him.

He looked up – and he saw _them._

He recognized them immediately. Figures supported by piton ropes around their waists scaled the walls. The claims were true: their suits flickered from the same color as the surrounding environment to a faint aluminum silver. The ropes hoisted automatically hoisted them up into the rafters and away from Hiro. The toughest-looking bloke had an unconscious figurine in a bright green dress slumped over his shoulder.

 _Abigail._

How could be so _stupid,_ he later scolded himself, to have let this happen? Didn't he foresee that someone was bound to get kidnapped if anything went wrong?

"HIRO!"

"Hiro!"

"Oh, he's all right!"

His friends, all clad in their suits, came running up to him and helped him up. Hiro had a thousand questions in mind. Like: how the _heck_ did an explosion go off? And from where? And did they see anyone suspicious?

Hiro pushed the questions away for later.

"Guys," he wheezed to his friends. "I found them. I'm onto them. You clear everyone out of the building!"

"But-"

"Now!"

As his team sped away from his direction, he clambered over mounds of rubble and butted through the thick smoke to his destination: Baymax.

"Hiro." Baymax was toddling through the smoke, turning his head and scanning any rock piles for Hiro or any other signs of life.

"Baymax!" Hiro ran up to his healthcare robot, in some mysterious way already clad in his red robot suit. Hiro wasn't sure who suited up Baymax, but he thanked his stars he had no more time to lose suiting up the robot. "Did you find anyone else in the building?"

"I have failed to identify any more signs of life within this perimeter. However, I sense that you-"

Hiro cut him off. "We need to save Abigail. They're getting away!" Now in one of the biggest hurries of his life since chasing down Baymax let loose into the streets two years ago, Hiro swooped down behind the corner where his supersuit was hidden – thankfully every part of it still blessedly intact – and donned it so quickly that even a fire fighter would have been proud.

"Wings, Baymax!" Hiro shouted, to which Baymax's back-mounted armored wings appeared. Hiro immediately scrambled onto Baymax's back, attaching himself via magnetic pads so Hiro wouldn't fall off. Baymax's feet-equipped rocket thrusters fired up, and both Baymax and Hiro, riding atop his back, were airborne.

"Stop!" he shouted to the figures disappearing up the rafts. They only spared a look at him; then, down below, he heard a hiss. The smallest fighter threw what looked like several grenades at some hissing, broken pipes. If the escaped gases contacted the grenade, death to anyone who remained inside.

"Baymax!" Hiro shouted. "Find a way out! Quick!"

 _Please let the exit not be obstructed,_ Hiro prayed as Baymax flew right across the hall, to the Hall entranceway...

* * *

Boom.

Boom.

BOOM.

At the last boom, the inside of the Hall illuminated from the bright implosion. All the visitors and spectators gathered outside gasped and covered themselves from flying debris as the building collapsed onto itself. At the same time, out flew Baymax and Hiro from the shattered opening of the entrance. The crowd went ballistic when both of their most popular heroes of San Fransokyo burst out in the nick of time.

"Made it," Hiro gasped as Baymax lowered himself down to the team, who couldn't be more grateful that the duo hadn't been swallowed up by the fire.

"OHMYGOODNESS, HIRO, WE THOUGHT YOU DIDN'T MAKE IT-"

"Well, seems like I keep refusing to die," Hiro replied, cracking a smile. "Listen, buddy," he told Baymax. "Can you check your scanner and tell me where these guys are located right now?"

In reply, Baymax scanned the area. Hiro contacted his computer panel – there was no mistaking it this time. The red specks zoomed through a road half a mile ahead on the virtual map, and they were already getting away quickly.

Immediately, he started coughing hard enough to hack up a lung. His eyes were disoriented.

"So dizzy..." he mouthed, holding up his head with one magnetic-padded glove.

The team's looks immediately turned into those of concern.

"I'm getting help," Gogo muttered, turning to beckon over a medical crew, who stood behind police reinforcements and looked ready to spring to assistance.

"What?" Hiro shouted. "I can't! I swear, I've almost caught these guys! We need to catch them!"

"No!" Gogo snapped. "Let it go. Your team members here are too injured. We. Stick. Together." It was true: the explosion ripped the team apart. Honey, lying on the hard stone floor, was lapsing in and out of consciousness, and her ankle was badly sprained. Wasabi contacted several nasty-looking burns and his suit was smothering. Even Gogo, whose maglev disks were horribly cracked, was feeling more nauseous by the minute. It was the radiation poisoning, she knew. Fred was physically all right. Mentally he wasn't. He kept spewing out the most unintelligible gibberish.

Hiro looked the Korean woman straight in the eye. It was his chance now, his one and only chance, to come face-to-face with those villains, then put them to justice, if he was lucky enough.

"No," he said quietly. "Baymax and I can handle this. Take care of Aunt Cass. Take care of yourselves. I will return shortly."

"DON'T YOU DARE-" Gogo screeched furiously.

"Someone needs to help." Hiro winced slightly. The words were so sickeningly familiar. But he needed to say something. Anything, really, to show his friends that nothing would stop him now.

Even after Hiro and Baymax took off into the illuminated San Fransokian night sky and whizzed down the road, clocking in at 200mph, till they were tiny specks, Hiro's last sentence still lingered in the air.

"Whuzz wrong, Gogo?" Honey Lemon asked, dazed, just before the med crew whisked her and the others off in carriers.

Gogo, one of her injured feet lagging behind her, stood staring at the horizon where the boy-genius and his robot companion disappeared.

"I just..." she said in a cracked voice, "I just...have a strange feeling that Hiro will not return."

* * *

 **The tension begins... O.O**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	6. Captured

Captured

Hiro and Baymax zoomed at top speed through the landscape and skyscrapers in hot pursuit of their mysterious rivals, the brilliant city and car lights a colorful blur beside them. By now Hiro felt anticipation and nausea well up in his throat; the radiation poisoning from the Hall explosion gave him a great urge to puke now. But at the same time, adrenaline pumped through his veins. How many months has it been since he felt the same old wind whistling through his helmet, now?

"Baymax! Look!" Hiro shouted. He unlatched his glove from a magnetic extension and pointed.

A little ways down below, a tight cluster of six one-man aircrafts were closely hovering along a highway lane. Even at this hour, Hiro instinctively found himself admiring the build of the advanced-looking aerocopters. A single rotary ring encircled each one and were attached to each wingtip. The rings tilted from vertical to a horizontal as the crafts abruptly cut around the building corners in perfect formation.

Hiro's first thought was to keep following the crafts, but then he came up with a better idea.

"Baymax – take the other way! Weave through the buildings so they won't see us, but stay close!" Hiro commanded.

* * *

"Shoot, they're hightailing us. What now, Commander?"

"Get Boss on the air; let's consult her instead."

"Come in, Boss! That marshmallow's comin' in fast!"

" _Excellent – perfect_ ," a slippery female voice replied from the communications radio.

"Can we shoot 'em down?"

" _Shoot them, sedate them, do whatever it takes to subdue both of them. But keep them both alive, you hear me? Especially the robot. He's mine..._ "

* * *

Baymax and Hiro followed the crafts deep inside the heart of downtown San Fransokyo, into a deserted back alley. A towering portal stood swirling against the alley wall. Through it was a different portal from the one Hiro encountered before – this portal was a pale ghastly green rather than purple.

"Now, Baymax!"

And before the rapidly approaching aircrafts could disappear through the portal, the duo flew out of one side of the alley, blockading their passage and forcing them to stop cold in midair. At the same time, Baymax aimed and shot his rocket fist into one of the portal's supports. It disintegrated and the portal remains scattered everywhere.

 _Yes!_

Baymax lowered himself in front of the mysterious soldiers, who instantly hopped out of their planes and pointed unidentifiable long, sleek guns at the armored robot. The simultaneous cocking of the guns rippled through the mass, ready to shoot at any given moment. What was worse, even more silver-suits slipped out of the shadows and merged together, ready to shoot.

Hiro gulped. Now, instead of the original six, he had to confront at least _twenty_ people. Part of him was screaming that it was a trick, a trap, designed perfectly for him. And who knew what damage these bazookas, if that's what they were, could cause to him?

"You can surrender Abigail and yourselves to the police," Hiro said loudly after pushing a button to make his visor disappear, "or you can fight, but it's no use; Baymax already alerted the police; they're coming as we speak." At that point Hiro took in a shaky breath and he retched hard. A bit of sick splattered down at the bottom of his visor and oozed down his armor. A wave of extreme dizziness followed after.

 _This is rather embarrassing, to be honest,_ he thought miserably.

The group exchanged some gibing laughter between themselves– no doubt because Mr. High-and-Mighty-Hero was reduced into a pathetic sickly mess when he took a spill down his armor. Then upon a discreet hand signal from the tallest silver-suit – the squad fired.

The blasts narrowly missed Hiro and Baymax, who steered away just in time. The blasts instead smashed the dirty alley wall behind them, which crumbled away.

"Steady, Baymax!" Hiro shouted. "Barrel roll!"

Baymax complied, and as the robot performed some helical maneuvers in the same, a wave of blasts followed one after another right at Baymax's tail.

"Zigzag – aileron roll – now _dive_!" Hiro was intent on coming out of shooting range, so Baymax would have time to blast his rocket at the resting choppers docked on the ground.

Only here was the catch, as Hiro soon realized: the very same bullets that the duo narrowly kept dodging would turn in the air and tail after the heroes for a few seconds, coming dangerously close into contact with them.

"Baymax, look ou-!"

Too late. A blast unexpectedly came in from Baymax's other side; it hit his wing, causing Baymax to be thrown out of the air and almost crash into the ground before he caught himself mid-fall. _Almost,_ yes, but that was enough to jerk Hiro off Baymax's back and make him fall ten feet onto the ground.

Ten feet wasn't enough to kill the boy, but Hiro could have sworn he felt all the bones in his body rattle as the momentum flung him to the ground.

One of his ankles seared with excruciating pain, and he was sure he fractured a rib somewhere. But out of experience he forced himself to regain footing, and for a good purpose: two silver-suits were gaining up behind him. The others were working on blasting Baymax out of the air completely.

Hiro acted on instinct. He reached across his hip to pull out his handy baton that also acted as a stun gun and extendable sword. He pressed a button. A taser bolt caught one of the fighters and incapitated him, but in doing so, the other fighter pulled out his own sword, which instantly lightened with a green glow that stretched from the handle to the tip, and lunged at Hiro.

Now Hiro was not just extremely capable in academics – he also proved himself proficient in kendo, fencing and karate when he took those up for self-defense and crime-fighting.

 _Lunge, attack, parry, feint, attack, retreat.._ _.blimey, are those guys from hell?_ Hiro thought wildly a split second before a silver-suit viciously slashed his sword out of his hands, disarming him. With almost inhuman speed he roundhouse-kicked Hiro so hard in the ribs that he went flying into the wall and hit his head. Something cracked dully – now a rib _definitely_ got dislocated.

Flashes of light sprang to his eyes– his armor could only do so much to protect him now – and he keeled over from the pain. He heard hurried footsteps, and though he didn't see them, he knew it was those silver-suits that were piling up on him, gaining on him by the second, all of them grasping for a part of him to subdue completely. Even through all the force pressing on him from every side, even from all the shouting and commotion that was threatening to make him lose conscience, Hiro reached for the computer panel in his arm. Time for his last resort attack, he knew. It would not take much to activate it, and he only used it for emergencies. Hopefully, hopefully, his suit had enough energy to enact this _last resort..._

Someone pinned Hiro's arms down, but he was ready. All it took was for him was for heat to build up in his palms, extend his fingers – and with a blast, a radioactive shock wave coursed from his gloves and spread into the air from all directions. The blast, while not lethal, could knock out anyone within range for hours and leave them with symptoms of radiation poisoning and occasionally cause amnesia.

The wave was strong enough to knock Hiro's captors down and stun the others, who just had begun to tie down Baymax with extendable ropes, enough to release him. But that was exactly the reaction Hiro was looking for.

Now free, he limped as fast as he could to Baymax, who was hovering and swept his gaze across the alley.

"Where are you, Hiro?"

"Over here, buddy!" Hiro shouted, waving his arms in the direction of the robot's view. _I think someone screwed up his hyperspectral cameras._

"I sense that your physical state-"

"Not now – not now, Baymax," Hiro wheezed, clutching at his rib. He was trying _so_ hard to not lose consciousness right now. "We need to-"

He never finished the sentence. Either Hiro's pulse blasts weren't as strong as he might've hoped, or the warrior's suits were immune to Hiro's types of blasts; either way, the recovered warriors fired several canister-style projectiles over Baymax, which released sturdy nets onto him. The robot helplessly crashed to the ground while his captors crowded over to him and started tying him down.

"No – no!" Hiro blindly rushed forward to Baymax while the latter reached out to his owner, as though in a silent plea for help. "You can't – don't hurt him – can't you see he's-"

 _Thwack._

Something sharp dug into Hiro's neck . He pulled the thing out. A drop of blood mingled with a clear fluid oozing out of the end tip.

 _A dart._

No sooner than when this realization crossed his mind, his legs lost all sense of feeling and he collapsed. He looked at his unmoving legs in horror: _he was paralyzed._

"No – Baymax – Baymax!" he called out, with one last pitiful attempt to crawl forward.

"Hiro..."

"Baymax, hang on!"

He still kept reaching out for Baymax, even when his surroundings blurred into oblivion and the drugged tiredness inevitably overtook him, so that he knew and felt nothing more...

 _Baymax..._

* * *

 **My goodness. I have put even myself on the edge of my seat this time. What have I done.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Imagigirl: Thanks for being such a supportive reader! Apologies when updates get too long, I try too hard haha.**

 **Timeless: Same to you my friend. Though you better brace yourself for more cliffies. Who knows? Maybe they'll eat you up from the inside out cuz of curiosity :D**

 **Martyn: So far I haven't come up with any Tangled fics yet lol. Though who knows? Maybe one day...**


	7. Welcome to the Giri

Welcome to the Giri

Some lighting overhead flashed through Hiro's shut eyelids, irritating him.

 _So... bright..._

He slowly cracked one eye open. He had never felt so sleepy in his life.

He was on sitting on a luxurious bed with fur blankets and silky, snow-white linen in a small room. In short, much of the room was deathly white: the translucent white floor, the decorated wall tiles, even the lighting that glowed out from underneath furniture and the Living Sculpture 3D Module system that hung overhead and undulated like an ocean wave, as though for added décor.

A glass partition separated his room from what Hiro saw was a small work area. Despite deluxe additions such as a plushy sofa, lounge chairs and a large fish tank built into the wall, the room gave the squeaky-clean room a somewhat cold, if not surreal, atmosphere. Everything in this room had a very modern look, perhaps even ostentatiously so. His sense of drowsiness was quickly forgotten when he took in his surroundings.

And then with a terrible jolt, his memories flooded back. He remembered the fight in the alley – Baymax – how both of them were taken down – the silver-suits…

 _Where_ am _I?_ Hiro wondered, getting more frantic by the second.

"Baymax?" he called out uncertainly. "Baymax!" Only the echoes answered him. He paced around, trying to find some outlet, window, or anything, really, that could point out to him where on earth he was.

"You're awake, I see."

"Argh!" Hiro jumped half a foot, knocking over a Woopsy lamp behind him. He automatically reached for his baton for protection but suddenly realized that he was wearing his causal clothes but not his armored suit, which vexed him. He didn't understand how he didn't see it before: there, leaning against the wall and looking somewhat bored, was a young Asian lady.

The first thing he noticed about her was that she was _very_ pale. Maybe even a sickly pale. Second: the paleness sharply contrasted with her black reverse bob cut and shrewd green eyes. Her military-style blazer and pencil skirt added to her strikingly exotic appearance.

"You're awake," she repeated calmly.

"W-what?" Hiro said blankly. "Who are you?"

"Oh…" the girl vaguely inspected her manicured nails, "Katsuro sent me to check up on you." _Like that explains her identity,_ Hiro thought, disgruntled. "You were knocked out for six days."

"Six days!"

"Correct. The tranquilizer that struck you was very powerful."

Hiro nearly reeled from the mental blow. He didn't want to think about his Aunt Cass or friends, or how they'd be worried sick. He immediately asked,

"Where's Baymax? How did you-?"

The girl put her hand up, cutting him off. "Allow me to ask first-" She approached him, scooping the lamp up, dusting it off with her pale fingers and placing it back on the table, "-do you _like_ it here?"

"L-like?" Hiro stuttered, not sure what she was trying to get at. "Yea. I guess."

"Are you sure we can't provide you with anything else?"

"Yes!" Her calm manner was really irking Hiro. "Just please, if you will, at least tell me where Baym-"

The strange girl put her hand up again. "Tsk, tsk, what's your hurry? All in due time…Hiro Hamada."

Hiro read one eyebrow suspiciously. "Now how do you know my name?"

But instead of replying, the girl strode over to the wall.

"Seeing that you're an exceptional case," she murmured, "It'll be easier to just show you..."

"Show me what?!"

"Come here, boy."

Hiro reluctantly joined her side – what else did he have to lose? Whoever she was, she didn't seem so bent on providing answers anyways.

The girl tapped an invisible code into the wall, then pressed her hand against it. As Hiro watched, the part of the wall dissolved until it completely faded away into an opening.

"Come." The girl stepped through the opening, bidding Hiro to do the same.

"Woah…" In spite of himself, Hiro was in awe.

He walked into a vast high-tech lobby. The floor was made of black shiny tiles, and the walls were glass, revealing sections of lab rooms on his right and other parts of the lobby on the other side. Beams of light snaked across the ceilings; glass pillars, with a bubbling green liquid substance in them, connected to the ceiling. And he saw _people._ Scientists were at work in their labs. Silver-suits and ordinary military soldiers alike marched the halls. Once Hiro saw what he swore was a humanoid in conversation with another scientist. But mostly to his surprise (or not so much, since he went through so much lately), several people seemed to materialize out of thin air and resumed going about their business.

"Welcome to the Giri," the girl announced. "We are a counter-terrorist and intelligence agency. Here we are known to be several steps ahead of the world's technological innovations."

"Yeah," Hiro replied dryly, "I noticed. Self-teleportation, FIPEL lighting technology, rearranging atoms of a cell wall; you even perfected portals. And lemme think: you guys already are already using Li-fi."

"Yes," she breathed. "And much more..." She indicated forward with her hand. "This way, please."

As Hiro took in the lobby, the strange girl walked closely by his side, as though she wanted him under close supervision at all times.

"We regret any inconveniences you and your artificially intelligent friend had to endure. During the time you were unconscious, however, our doctors were able to heal your wounds very quickly."

 _It's true,_ Hiro thought as he felt at the rib that was previously broken. _I don't feel any pain._

Dehlia looked at him with a slight, half-apologetic smile. "Oh, yes, and where are my manners? I'm Dehlia, by the way. Dehlia Huong Tokushima."

Hiro was tempted to get more specifics into Baymax's whereabouts, but fought the urge for now. Dehlia, as this mysterious girl was called, seemed to evade directly answering that anyways.

"Ma'am? I really need to know: what happened to me?"

Dehlia gave a small sigh. "The _shinobi_ captured you under the Katsuro's orders."

" _Shinobi?_ You mean those silver-suit guys?"

"That would be correct." When Hiro saw a row of them saluting Dehlia, he averted his eyes.

"I can promise you they won't hurt you," Dehlia said assuredly, reading his expression. "Whoever touches you will have to go through me first. They serve under Katsuro, who's director of the Giri – he's away on a business trip, by the way, so there's no use meeting him right now. But you see, I am his most trusted deputy director. Whoever displeases me displeases him, and he doesn't let rebels go unpunished. Of course, he does let _me_ do the honors sometimes…"

His gut churned uncomfortably at her last sentence. If she meant what Hiro _thought_ she meant…

"So why did this Katsuro guy capture me?" Hiro asked, feeling himself frustrated again. "Why did he capture Abigail? Look, I may not know much about you or this place, but I researched enough about you to prove that you _kidnap-"_

Dehlia shook her head. "Such misconceptions are what sometimes give us such a bad rep. But you will understand everything eventually." She smiled at him, but it looked patronizing. " _I promise."_

Upon reaching their next stop via elevator (Also posh and transparent, not to mention cableless), Dehlia announced, "While most of our research in this facility is classified to newcomers, there is something I need to show you."

"Fine, but I want to see Baymax after this," Hiro grumbled.

Dehlia didn't answer at first, so Hiro guessed that she was reluctant to allow.

"So you shall," she said serenely.

She led him to an observation deck that gave out onto an operation room down below. The few workers who hung out there were chatting amongst each other while at the same time observing an operation in progress. After a close inspection,

"Are those…?" Hiro breathed.

"Yes," Dehlia confirmed. " _Cyborgs."_

Hiro watched as surgical robots penetrated further into a young patient's arm – or rather, a bio-mechanical arm. Hiro had studied cyborgs inside and out at his university, but he still had questions.

"I wonder by how much those cyborgs are modified."

"A lot. Sometimes up to 50%. Muscle, bone, the nervous system, ribs, parts of the skull – everything that is naturally weak must be replaced. We call this process of upgrading _conditioning._ You may have wondered at one point why shinobi are so alike to superhumans. Now you know."

"But wouldn't the biological body eventually reject so many artificial components implanted in a person's body?"

"I myself considered this. But again, our solutions to such problems are also confidential."

"Oh. Right."

"However, in case you still have the notion that we 'kidnap' whoever we want," Dehlia continued, "I can assure you that _shinobi_ soldiers are specially handpicked. Ages and nationalities vary, and most of them range from survivors of terminal illness patients to orphans to incorrigible juvenile delinquents. In other words, those who don't have a bright future ahead of them. We, however, give them a second chance. Doesn't it sound like a worthy cause to you?"

Hiro shrugged. As Dehlia motioned for Hiro to come with her again, he accidentally bumped into a someone.

"Whoops, 'cuse me," Hiro mumbled. The lady whom he bumped into didn't reply; she only took a moment to glance at him with strangely unfocused eyes before she hurried on.

As promised, Dehlia gave him a tour of the repair ward, which was where Baymax was kept to be fixed because, according to Dehlia, he was tasered upon capture.

"'Tasered!?" Hiro exclaimed. "Don't tell me you've messed with his programming, or-" He abruptly stopped when he saw Baymax.

"Baymax!" Hiro tore through the ward to Baymax's half-deflated body lying on a table on the far side of the room. His vinyl was split down through the middle, exposing his exoskeleton and circuits. His defibrillator palms glowed a faint blue, and he was scorched in a few spots.

Baymax slowly turned his head to his owner. "Hiro," he simply said.

But before Hiro could reach the robot, several engineers in jumpsuits blocked his path and grabbed his arms. They shouted at him in Japanese, pushing Hiro out the ward.

"I- I don't understand," Hiro told Dehlia, half-choking with anger. "You promised- you promised I'd see Baymax-"

"So you did," Dehlia said calmly. "I forgot to add, by the way, that my workers here are extremely busy and don't like being disrupted. But at least you know that your friend is still functional. And for goodness sakes, don't worry so much! They're repairing him, not disassembling him. The less distractions in the ward, the faster he will be repaired. You will see him again soon. Once again, _don't worry."_

Hiro numbly nodded, though he was still unconvinced of anything that girl said.

Dehlia showed him to a door. The metal bars that were split down the middle automatically separated, giving them passageway to a control room.

"So _that's_ where you've been hiding," Dehlia said in an "a-ha" tone when a scruffy feline, the size of a small female housecat, slunk from the shadows of the room and rubbed against Dehlia in a guilty manner. Whatever its misdeeds were, Dehlia gave it an admonishing slap before she let it clamber up her shoulder. The creature had a bionic green eye in the place of its left eye with a single lens glasses over it. A tiny metallic box with a screen was strapped to its chest; wire protruded out of it and connected into the feline's back neck. Had it been any other time, Hiro would've taken interest in the creature.

She flicked her fingers at a four-meter high cylindrical screen, causing a virtual map of the globe to appear.

"As you can see here," she continued, indicating to and zooming in to a series of islands above Canada, "our base is located near the Qikiqtaaluk Region, just a hundred miles or so from Resolute Island."

"Yeah, so that you could hide away from the rest of the world while you crush people's hearts and, I dunno, their lives. No wonder no one's ever heard of the Giri," Hiro replied with his signature snark, while also trying to recover from the shocking fact that he was thousands of miles away from home.

Dehlia scrutinized him, not saying anything. The cat on her shoulder fixated his green eye on Hiro.

"You little smart mouth," Dehlia finally said. Her lips formed into a smirk. "I like you." She paced the room, fingers locked behind back. "Yes, it's true that as a government agency, it is our responsibility to collect, analyze and exploit any information for national security, military and foreign policy. But as we are also a counter-terrorist agency, we take it upon ourselves to combat terrorism around the world. Our espionage team, in particular, is voted one of the most elite in the country. The CIA, the United States Department – so many government agencies depend on us to extract information that even they can't." She sighed. "But even as we speak, terrorist organizations, mafia, and more are trying to expose us. _You_ would know, because you also fight evil. And I'm not trying to be political, but you'd be stupid, for instance, to not know that the mafia hides among the government itself." She chuckled humorlessly. "But since we cooperate with the government only to a certain degree," she smirked again, "this is where our anonymity comes of use."

She focused carefully on the big screen and carefully tapped in something into an invisible keyboard in front of her. As a result, many red dots spread all over certain parts of the map.

"We have not been very active for the last thirteen years-"

"Cuz thirteen years ago, the Giri has been busted and destroyed," Hiro muttered.

She continued as though she hadn't heard him,

"-but recently, we are now at large. Consider the Sri Lanka bus explosion. The San Akita power plant disaster. The Tianjin Warehouse blast. And who instigated all of them? We did. What international media never noticed until recently was that following those "accidents", missing scientist reports have been filed. Makes you think twice about conspiracy theories, doesn't it?" As she spoke, holographic videos stemmed from the mentioned locations on the map, pixelating before the resolution adjusted and enlarged. Videos showing building explosions, reporters jabbering breaking news, hordes of people scattering away from danger, landmines collapsing unto themselves, missing person reports covering the entire screen…

"Seriously?" Hiro couldn't help throwing in that little jab of sarcasm. "Sorry to be blunt, but you guys are playing such heroes _,_ how do you expect to conquer evil with evil? Heck, I bet the exact wave of terrorism caused in San Fransokyo years ago was caused by the Giri."

Dehlia gave him a patronizing smile, as though to say: _Oh, you and your idealistic hero viewpoints._

"If you're talking about the Silver Epidemic, that was over thirteen years ago. The Giri started out as a resistance movement, and the majority of them turn out corrupted by the end. Second, it's called good business," she retorted. "They should be grateful that we even compensate by providing our scientists and their families with good pay. But my point is, what do you think helped make our _shinobi_ are so skilled that even Big Hero 6 itself couldn't capture them? Modern breakthroughs. Why do you think our technology is so advanced?"

Hiro didn't need to think long for the answer.

"Because you handpick the most intelligent scientists who invent said breakthroughs," he replied slowly.

"Excellent, excellent," Dehlia replied, enjoying where this conversation was going. "Simply put, we need brilliant minds around here. If you're a scientist, you work for us. If you're unwanted in this world – you join the ranks of the shinobi. But did you know that 20% of brilliant scientists that we recruit are also superheroes? All the more convenient for us when they can serve dual purposes, to become a scientist _and_ a shinobi, don't you think?

"And your reason for all this is…so that you can prove to the world what an invincible organization you are, so you can therefore apprehend, take down and do whatever with anyone who stands in your way.

"Theoretically speaking, yes. But don't think for one moment that we just do this because we're some villains who use people for some evil, generic purpose like conquering the world, oh, no. Take it with a grain of salt. The varying police of the world can only do so much to cleanse this world of evil. But we? We figured out the right techniques. And they WORK. Our unknown identities only help us to drill intimidation into our enemies!"

"But those explosion accidents followed by missing person reports around San Fransokyo…" Hiro was angered and horrified all at once. "T-That was all you!"

Dehlia didn't answer, probably because the answer was too evident for him to not know.

"But the casualties…people were even murdered in those accidents!" Hiro then furrowed his brow. "But what does it matter to you? You wouldn't care. You kidnapped Baymax and me, obviously because you want to use us in some way." Hiro sat down dejectedly. "You kidnapped Abigail. If you really did care-"

Dehlia waved his comment away. "Care? Who said anything about care? Do you think San Fransokyo cares? Even as we speak, the city council is trying to pass a law barring the likes from rampaging the city and doing whatever you geniuses think will save the city! In fact, many cities around the country are following in this example. Even as we speak, the Supreme Court itself is debating on whether it is constitutional for ordinary citizens, who are not empowered by the state, to fight crime!" Then her tone of voice changed.

"Look," she said soothingly, "We are crime fighters, like you. I know, at first, it'll sound like too much to ask you and the rest of Big Hero 6 to relinquish your positions, but I tell you this not because the world hates you, but because it's time to face progress; meaning, you must leave this serious task to the ones who can best wield it. This is a serious matter which for too long you have exploited to your own use."

"But the citizens of San Fransokyo-"

"-have already opted for superheroes to resign," Dehlia finished. "They want to put their trust in someone best equipped for the job like us _,_ not a band of unidentified, uncertified vagrants who think they know best what to fight."

It was useless to debate her on that topic, Hiro knew. She had the leverage, the influence, to change regulations that appealed to what the people desired.

In a concluding act of persuasion, Dehlia took Hiro by the hand.

"But you can work here," she entreated him. "You can have a job as a scientist; you know how much potential you have? Child prodigies are rare in this world – too few of our most brilliant scientists possess true talent as you do. At such a young age, too! If you insist, you can resume your passion as a superhero by joining our ranks with the _shinobi._ You don't even have to work _here;_ just say the word and you will immediately be released, free to work from the comfort of your hometown. Together, our organization will be strongest superpower; nothing will stand in our way."

Hiro jerked his hand away. "I'm sorry," he said firmly. "But I can't trust someone who tries to control people by blowing up buildings, terrorizing and kidnapping useful citizens and convincing the rest that a government-influenced organization knows how to best control their safety. I don't know, maybe you have a good purpose. Maybe you believe the goals justify the means. But that's not how we believe true heroism works. If terrorism is your answer to a better peace, then I think you have the wrong idea: _you_ are the terrorist group, not the other way around! So do me a favor and take a hike!"

Hiro had said the last sentence in a spurt of anger and immediately regretted it. Dehlia didn't react, even though he almost wanted her to; she just looked him over with dead, emotionless eyes.

"So be it," she said quietly. Striding away from him with, she snapped her fingers; two _shinobi_ guards came to her side before the echo of the sound fully dissipated.

"Take him away; he's another lost cause, like the rest of them – maybe even more naïve," she said disdainfully. Right away the guards apprehended a horrified Hiro, painfully pinning his arms to his back and walking him out of the counseling room.

"No – wait!" Hiro cried angrily, struggling against the guards, even though he knew that would be futile. "You trickster! So this is part of your plan? Locking up those you disagree with you? Oh yeah, now I see what a _great, peaceful_ organization you are – ah!" He earned an excruciatingly painful twist in the arm for the comment.

"Hiro, have you ever wondered how your parents died?"

The comment hit Hiro worse than a slap to the face. He ceased struggling and stared at Dehlia in blank horror.

"Wha- how- how do you- _What do you know about that?"_ Hiro hissed between his teeth.

Dehlia didn't answer. The cat stared the boy-genius out of the room.

"Please don't take this personally, Hiro-kun," Dehlia hissed. She absentmindedly stroked the cat on her shoulder while she glared at the spot where the boy-genius was last seen, the pale under her cheekbones growing more pronounced. "It's just good business."

* * *

 **I'm sorry that updates are so sporadic! Forgive me…? D:**

 **Hopefully I'll learn to update faster, but then, I really do take this fanfic into deep consideration.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	8. Freddie's Secret

Freddie's Secret

 _Flashback; one week earlier_

But what really happened back at the Tadashi Hamada hall?

Most people at the convention were gathered to hear the prodigy's speech. A few passersby lagged behind, still observing each showcase. Two scientists in lab coats were standing guard of their scale-sized nuclear reactor model not ten feet away from Gogo.

 _I don't see anything unusual._ Gogo nonchalantly popped her bubble while she kept her eyes peeled. With a mild jolt, she still remembered that an audience was waiting for her showcase demonstration. She decided to keep it simple: no tricks on her bike, just take questions that her audience threw at her. That way, it would be easier to keep observant at the same time.

"Yes?" Gogo pointed towards a girl's raised hand.

"What makes the bike wheels suspend in mid-air like that?" a young girl asked Gogo.

"Electro-magnetic suspension" was on the tip of Gogo's tongue. But before she could fully reply, her peripheral vision caught sight of something. First: the same two scientists were no longer close by. Two: they were slinking behind Honey Lemon's barista station. One grabbed her from behind, clapping his hand over her mouth so she wouldn't scream, then brought her down to her knees. The second scientist shot her – not fatally, but with a stun gun, as seen by the electrical discharge. Only Gogo witnessed this.

" _Honey Lemon!"_ Gogo growled ferociously.

"Huh? Honey lemon? As in, the tea?"

Gogo didn't answer. Thinking quickly, she grabbed her suspension bike and veered it off a ramp, speeding right towards the two crooks. She performed frontal wheelie; it gave her a chance to yank the front wheel off the bike and, like a metal frisbee, toss it straight at the scientist with the taser.

The disc struck him so hard in the solar plexus that he flew to the other side of the station and struck the platform with a dull thud. He was completely knocked out. The other one took one horrified glance at his partner, then at Gogo, then released Honey Lemon's unconscious body and scampered away.

 _Oh, heck_ _no, you don't!_ Gogo grabbed her other wheel to toss at the other minion, but a strong arm grabbed her into a chokehold, squeezing hard enough to obstruct her windpipe. Instinctively she bent down, enough to throw her attacker over her shoulder in a judo flip. The attacker went down, but not without dragging Gogo down with him. In this split second that she was on the ground, Gogo caught a glimpse of her attacker.

 _A silver-suit!_

"I need back-up!" she croaked into the communicator before her attacker grabbed her and pinned her down. They scuffled and clawed each other as viciously as two spitting cats, both eager to subdue the other onto the floor. At this point, more silver-suits slunk from the walls to take over Gogo.

"My scanners detect a sign of steel alloy," Baymax stated on the other side of the room.

Meanwhile, Wasabi quickly picked up on the message and was busy fending off some silver-suits himself. He fought them off so rapidly that his katana was a blur. Unfortunately, the expert swordsman had nothing on the other silver-suits, who melted and disintegrated his katana with their own greenish-tinted ones. He used the next resolution, and activated the plasma blades on his gauntlets, and lashed out to the silver-suits to at least fend them off. In a stroke of luck, he melted several drawn weapons, but in turn, seven more silver-suits ambushed the burly hero from behind and floored him, forcing him to turn off his plasma blades.

"And it's Fred to the rescue!" the suit-clad fanboy whooped before appearing and dosing the shinobi with flames from the mouth of his kaiju suit. Unfortunately, the attackers who held down Wasabi immediately scattered, exposing him into the line of fire.

"Ah! 'Sabi, you all right?" A shocked Fred peered over the mouth of the suit. Wasabi's suit was badly scorched, but he himself was all right, since he cleverly covered his face with the lasers.

"Yeah," he huffed in shock, letting Fred help him up. "Not your fault. These silver-suits are _freaking_ fast."

Meanwhile, an injured Gogo was trying to shake the blurriness from her eye. The shinobi she combated with had clearly won, having tossed her against the wall with the ease of throwing a kitten. Strangely enough, not any other shinobi went after her. It was almost as though they had different priorities other than to wrangle her further down.

Gogo took one look at the nuclear reactor model, at the silver-suit tossing something at it – and she understood. The ambush on Honey Lemon was meant to divert Gogo from the reactor model. The entire scheme was a diversion.

"Run," she shouted through the communicator. "Everybody, evacuate, NOW!"

The nuclear reactor model exploded...

The building caught on fire...

And the rest is history.

* * *

 _The next day_

"...And we are breaking now with news of another terrorist bombing, this time in the Tadashi Hamada Hall in the downtown San Fransokyo vicinity," a news reporter declared during this morning's interview. "Mr. Meyer, sir, can you tell us more about what happened last night?"

"It was definitely another planned terrorist attack," a policeman on-screen replied as the camera jump-cut to his face. "At least 15 killed, 34 in critical condition right now. As soon as the explosions went off in the Hall, the SWAT team responded by running in. Natually, they found no sign of the culprits, though they did witness Big Hero 6 helping everyone evacuate. Where they came from is currently unknown; identities are still unknown."

"Will we ever find out who those heroes are?"

"Unfortunately, the hospital that's treating them is unavailable for comment."

"Well, looks like even Big Hero 6 failed to catch our culprits. So you're saying the suspects are still on the loose. No leads whatsoever?"

"We're still investigating into this case as we speak. However, what's different this time is, well, have you ever noticed the small purple-suited lad flying on top of that big red machine, or whatever it is?"

"Oh, yes, yes, tell me more about the both of them."

"Both of them just took into the air, speeding across the air like a bat outta the El Paso! It's like they found a lead on these suspects before we did!"

The news reporter chuckled. "Any more sightings from likely witnesses?"

"No, sir."

"Thank you, Mr. Meyer." The scene cut to present only the news reporter. "Tragically, yet unsurprisingly, two missing person reports have been filed, the first one being scientist and SFIT dean Abigail Callaghan. The second person missing is, ladies and gentleman, non other than 16-year-old genius Hiro Hamada himself. Being such a smart kid, in addition to the scientist disappearances across the globe, it's no surprise that he has also been apprehended. Cassandra Miller, the owner of the ever-popular Lucky Cat Cafe, is also Hiro's aunt and one of his few known relations. Let's see what she has to say concerning this topic." The screen jump-cut to the image of Cass, her face red and swollen from crying, and confronted with at least three newscast mics.

"I just- I don't know how to explain this," Aunt Cass said, sniffling. "They stole my baby – they stole my dear nephew! I raised him for over thirteen years, and I loved him like a son. Her voice was breaking up with sobs. "What do these people want from him, anyways?! First I lost my older nephew, and now they took my only one?"

Fred, sitting up on the hospital bed, grabbed the remote control and switched off the TV. It was still too much to handle in one day. He looked at his hospital roommate, Wasabi, staring listlessly at the TV screen.

"So that's it," Wasabi murmured, bringing his knees up to his chest. He had multiple plasters all over the burns across his body and face, and an IV tube was attached at his arm. "That really is the end of our superhero careers. Hiro hasn't returned; I can't imagine the breakdown poor Aunt Cass must be having. And we didn't catch those silver-suits! They're too darn skilled...or something. And now the public is gonna know our identities any time now, which will give us really bad names. We're goners, man!" He buried his face into his knees and started sobbing.

Fred could only nod dejectedly. "We really did screw up, eh?" he said quietly. He winced and felt at his bandage-covered head. Like most others, he suffered from radiation poisoning. That, and a slight brain concussion, explained his mental state from the day before. Luckily, he was recovering well.

"No." Fred shook his head. "Not everything's hopeless. At least we still have each other. At least we made it out alive!"

Wasabi's continuous sobs were his only answer. "B-but our leader's gone!"

"Gone, yes. Dead, I seriously doubt it, 'Sabi. He's too valuable to be, well, you know." He stopped to regain his breath. "C'mon 'Sab," he said, putting his hand over his friend's heaving shoulders. "If Hiro were here, what would he want us to do?"

"I- dunno." Wasabi stared up over his knees now. "My best guess would be to keep investigating into all this!"

"That's right, my man!" Fred gently punched Wasabi's shoulder. "First, we need to ask ourselves: since Hiro's device didn't track down any bombs, how did the building explode in the first place?"

"Correction," Wasabi put up a finger. "Hiro's device could track materials _similar_ to what they make into bombs. Let's think: what showcase had an experiment with nuclear energy?"

"Ummmm I don't recall one…" Fred said thoughtfully, but when Wasabi interrupted.

"Why, duh! The nuclear reactor model! It's true that _both_ reactors and bombs do have fissile material in them, like, say, uranium or plutonium."

Fred slapped his face. "Bingo! We should have known that nuclear reactors explode, too!"

"But that's the thing!" Wasabi burst out. "Nuclear reactors don't just explode like that; it's not possible!"

"What."

"While it's true that both release energy in the same way, the reaction is controlled in all nuclear reactors. While for bombs… the energy is uncontrolled, hence its destructive potential. So how could a nuclear reactor explode?"

Fred shrugged. "Don't ask me, you're the nerd who's supposed to know all about science-y stuff!"

"Unless…" Wasabi continued, "The silver-suits knew in advance that Hiro would try to track them down, and so they sent someone to hide the bomb in the least unexpected place; in other words, the nuclear reactor model, which can't normally blow up, right? Thus, Hiro thought it was the components of a regular nuclear reactor and didn't inspect it any further. Yup, we're dumb." And Wasabi plopped his head into his knees again.

"Don't worry," Fred assured him. "We didn't have time. Remember that little girl who distracted us?"

"Yea. My guts tell me she was involved in all this."

"What about those two scientists in charge of the model?"

"I didn't recognize them, come to think of it."

"Me neither."

Suddenly, a long, blood-curdling shriek penetrated through the wall behind them. The scream was genuine, and what's more, one of real terror.

Both men looked at each other in horror. They recognized the voice.

"Gogo!" they cried at the same time. Yanking off his IV tube, Wasabi followed Fred through the hospital halls and both burst into the room next by, where Gogo was held.

At least five nurses were struggling to pin down a writhing Gogo while one tried to inject something into her arm – a sedative, most likely. All were yelling for back-up and shouts of "Ethel, ma'am, you need to calm down. Ma'am? Ma'am! Please!"

"What are you two boys doing here, huh?" one nurse yelled. She roughly shooed Fred and Wasabi out of the room, so now both could only wait it out in the hallway and pray that Gogo wasn't in a critical condition.

The scream of terror slowly subsided, and after five minutes, the fatigued nurses filed out of the room and joined two other doctors to discuss their patient's condition. Fred and Wasabi heard snatches of the conversation, such as,

"For sure, she's experiencing PTSD."

"From the fire?"

"Maybe. Perhaps we should get her a counselor."

"Well, we managed to sedate her, at least."

"Doc, when shall we check up on her again?"

"Well, I'd say give her sedatives every two hours. If screaming persists, cut the time down in half."

" _Hopefully_ she won't persist. She's strong as an ox, that lady is. She bucked like the dickens – we could barely even pin her down."

After the doctors were out of sight, Wasabi mouthed, "All clear." He knocked at the door, then slowly, tentatively, stepped in.

"Gogo?"

The Korean lady was lying with her back to the two of them. She was clutching a pillow as though it was her only salvation, and she had her head buried in it. She didn't respond.

"Hey," Fred said gently, approaching closer. "You don't have to answer. If we're a bother, all you have to do is yell at us to clear out, or die in a hellhole, or…" Fred chuckled nervously. Never in his life could he imagine stoic Gogo giving in to anguished screams. "Yeah. That's it. Just one word, Gogo. If we hear your response-" he sat on the chair next to the bedstead, "-at least we know you'll be okay."

Gogo slowly sat up. Her face was crinkled into that of intense anger and pain.

"I-I-" she said gruffly, struggling to formulate her words correctly, "I know about them."

"Who, now?"

"The _shinobi._ "

"You mean-" Wasabi's eye widened, "Those silver-suited guys?"

Gogo nodded curtly. "I didn't want to see it coming. I didn't want to believe it either. But it's true, it's true! They returned!" she spat with vehemence.

"Okay, we should leave, we don't wanna agitate her, you know?" Wasabi squeaked. He made out of the door, but Fred grabbed at his hospital shirt. "No. We need to know more. Please, Gogo, is there more you want to tell us?"

Gogo looked hesitant, but it was clear by her uncomfortable squirming that she wanted out with it.

"It all started when my father committed an act that affected this organization in some way – I don't know the name of this organization, nor what he did, but I know they're extremely quick to retaliate. That was thirteen years ago. As punishment, they took away my older sister. She was allowed to visit home once a week – if she was lucky – and she was forbidden to speak of this organization or of her position in it. She was basically their hostage. We noticed something change in her. Her athletic abilities were enhanced, but she was paler, sicklier, suffered memory loss, and tended to pass out. And that wasn't even the worst of her symptoms." She sighed heavily.

"One day, my sister and I witnessed a huge shootout on a roof between two _shinobi_. Gunshots flew everywhere, hurting people nearby. My sister quickly clambered up the roof to stop them. Lucky for her, she was a champion in kendo, so she disarmed one. But the other one… he-he shot her. Nothing fancy, just your everyday pistol. One shot, and she fell off the other side of the roof. It happened so quickly…I screamed and screamed…" Without warning, Gogo swung round and punched the wall so hard that a little bit of it gave way under her clenched first. Fred and Wasabi stood transfixed, anticipating any more sudden moves from her.

"I screamed and screamed," she repeated. "There was no way she could've survived the fall. The next day, we received a phone call. The caller – his laugh was that of a deranged, sick maniac. 'You're next! Just you wait! My shinobi will hunt you down, too!' he said to my father. Dad – he had a mental breakdown and had to go into rehab…"

"Shh." Fred gently put his hand on her quaking shoulder. "Sorry you had to go pour out your soul like this."

"You aren't my psychotherapists."

"No." Fred extended his hand as though offering a side-hug. "We're your friends."

Gogo gave Fred's hand a disgusted glare (she hated any sign of being pitied); she did, however, thank them with a nod and a rare smile. "So what's the next plan? After we get checked out of the hospital, that is?"

"Well," Wasabi started worriedly, "there's this problem of everyone knowing our identity now. Apart from that…" and Wasabi and Fred filled her in on their previous theory.

"Sounds realistic to me," Gogo said. "I would like to share mine, if you don't mind. Tell me, you any of you remember hearing Baymax stating at one point that he could detect steel alloy?"

"Yeah. You clawed 'em up pretty good."

"Right. I even remember scratching off some aluminum grit off their suits and getting it all over my hands." Then Gogo scowled. "But what does it matter, now?"

"Right," said Wasabi, knowing that any more words of reassurance were empty talk. "Where's Honey Lemon?"

Gogo pointed at the drawn curtains next by. "Sprained ankle. Dehydration. After-effects of excess smoke inhalation. Radiation poisoning and Grade I concussion, just to name a few."

Wasabi whimpered slightly when he ripped open the curtains to find Honey hooked up to an intravenous, as well as other wires from a monitor, and an oxygen mask. "Is-is she-?"

"She's fine. I think she was given a strong sedative the other day."

"Oh, phew, just asleep then." Wasabi spared another sad glance at his tall unconscious friend, her long golden hair splayed out all over the pillow, before drawing the curtains again.

At that moment, the door opened and three men with identification tags clipped onto their business suits strode into the room.

"This is the FBI," said the leader, showing his badge. "Would you mind if had a little talk with the members of Big Hero 6?"

* * *

"The last traces of the terrorists and your leader came from Canyon Blossom Way," the FBI leader, Greg, said. "We thought you'd like to see the proof of evidence." A fellow FBI agent handed Greg a plastic bag of dull, shredded material. The gang leaned in to observe it.

"What is this?" Fred asked curiously.

" _Camouflage sheets –_ a design based on the abilities of cephalopods such as octopi," said Greg. "This likely came from the suits of our suspects. Now we think we know why they can blend into our surroundings like this."

Fred wolf-whistled. "Awesome, man!"

"Indeed. Which leads us to believe that this organization is extremely advanced for its time." Greg put away the bag. "Now, let's talk about all of you."

"Oh dear…" Wasabi said in a faint voice.

"First off, rest assured that that secrets are safe with us, and only us," Greg said. "We have requested the hospital staff to clear your records and change your names."

"No, we get it – you bribed them," Gogo intervened. She smirked. "Go on."

The FBI agent smiled. "After the decree was passed, all of you still gathered to try and prevent an attack on the Tadashi Hamada Hall. In a way, you are now fugitives of the law."

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?!" Gogo snapped, sitting upright. "If the stupid SWAT or anyone else can't track down technologically advanced psycho radicals-"

"-then neither could you, hence your conditions at this hospital," the FBI agent finished firmly. "But that's not my point. I understand your intentions, all of you. I respect you for that. But I can't change this law, and it would only be wiser if you adhered to it. Therefore, I've come here to give you your last warning: should you go breaking The Anti-Vigilante Act again, we'll have no choice but to tell the public your names and identities."

Gogo scowled. "Who are you working for, anyways?"

"Ah, I thought we'd touch on that question. It's strictly business, ma'am. If the city council of San Fransokyo issues this, we're only doing our own part in law enforcement."

Fred raised his hand. "Yeah, but so what if everyone knows our name? People will know who we really are, and they'll back us up, so ha!"

"Like I said, you all are fugitives, albeit cleared for the present time. Have you seen all the hate the crowd is taking up on the streets or are you this close-minded? If the public figured you out, why," The agent chortled humorlessly, "hell would break loose. You're all reputable college students. But think about how your reputation after this scandal. And that's not the worst of it. A heavy penalty would await each of you if the law enforcement, such as the police, know. Your lives could be ruined."

A tense silence hung in the air. Gogo clutched at the sheets, her fists shaking with tension, and Fred uncomfortably glanced at his friends.

"Tell your unconscious friend what I've told you after she wakes up. It's for her own good, too," the agent finished. He and his two other partners filed out of the room. "Remember," he said before he shut the door after himself, "your secret identities protect you. Do not use them in vain."

"So that's it," Wasabi said blankly after the FBI shut the door behind them. "That's it. We're done for. Screwed." He put his head in his hands. "Why are we even superheroes in the first place? Yes, because Tadashi, yeah, but we've got the military and whatnot. They don't need us, the nerds, to assist them anyways. And I'm not averse to living a peaceful life for once, catching up on my tomato planting and Tai Chi and…"

" _No one's_ backing down _,_ " Gogo growled. "We're fighting to the very end. When we swore to take up this job, we also swore to carry it out all the way. And we did. For two years, no matter how bad a situation was, no matter how _smart_ a supervillain was, we never gave up. _This_ is just another challenge. Understand that?!" Gogo glared at the two boys, as though challenging them to chicken out. "Second, does anyone else suspect this whole situation is a little fishy?"

The two shrugged.

"Our protection agencies should have caught those crazies a long time ago, but they're incapable."

"Because the shinobi aren't your ordinary crooks or villains; they're _super_ villains."

"Now you're getting it. And since we're _super_ heroes and we have differing fighting combats, different resources, we should've received encouragement. But no. They're shutting us down, just when public needs us most. Now do you numbskulls get it?"

"That…someone who hates us could be behind this?" Fred guessed.

"Mm." Gogo nodded.

"Sounds like a conspiracy!" Wasabi squeaked.

" _Guys!"_ Fred was pacing the floor, an excitement in his eyes as though a revelation had occurred to him. "Guy, guys, guys, guys, _guys!_ " He spread out his arms with a broad grin on his face. "I have a question for you all: is this our darkest hour?"

"Unless we're facing the zombie apocalypse, then no."

"No, seriously, look at it this way: we're out of luck, we're hitting dead ends, and our careers are suspended with no hope of returning-"

"Okay, okay!"

Fred giggled manically. "Then that means I have no choice but to disclose to you the most secret of all the Lee family's secrets." He leaned in towards his two buddies and whispered,

"My Dad…has connections…with S.H.I.E.L.D."

"What! It's exists?! How come you never told us?" Wasabi said.

"Dad swore me to secrecy. Only when all is lost, he said, can I then tell my closest friends."

"Okay, so it exists. What about it?" Gogo asked skeptically.

"Are you kidding me? S.H.I.E.L.D was the best, most unconquerable agency there was! It was the heart or superhero operatives, and a refuge, until, you know. Years ago, when superheroes were more commonplace in San Fransokyo, and S.H.I.E.L.D still operated, Dad built a fortified base in his house. We can continue researching into this case in private, since our tech is free of any government intervention. And who knows? If we're lucky, we can even track Hiro and Baymax down."

The very idea of a secret base sounded almost too good to be true in this "dark hour", as Fred put it.

"And when can we go to see it?" Gogo asked.

"How about as soon as we all get checked out?" Fred said confidently.

* * *

One week later, the team was recovered significantly. On the particular sunny morning that they were cleared from the hospital, Fred suggested that everyone meet up at his house straight away.

"About time," Gogo huffed, driving everyone with Wasabi's car (he reluctantly passed it over to her only because he deemed this an emergency, but on the condition that she drive carefully.)

A muffled ringtone playing to "The Blue Danube Waltz" sounded from the back seat.

"Whoops," said Fred, pulling out his phone from his pocket.

"Hello?"

Silence from Fred's part, apart from a few nods and _hm_ 's. He disconnected, his eyes wide in fear and worry.

"What is it?" Gogo called from the front.

"My dad. He says it's an emergency!"

* * *

On arrival, the gang feared for the worst. A transport truck stood parked in front of the grand mansion. The mansion doors were spread wide open, and workers strode in and out, carrying or lugging with them furniture and expensive items and hauling them into the truck.

"Is that…?"

"Yeah. The Collective Agency. Paps was right, they did come for us." Without another word, Fred sprang out of the car and ran up the front steps and into the house, his friends following after him.

"No, no, no, you can't – you can't do this!" Stan Lee, Fred's father, pleaded, chasing after random workers. "Who told you that y-you can just barge in here and take our stuff, huh? You don't have the rights!" With shaking hands, Lee brought out his phone and pushed some numbers.

"Whaddya mean the accounts haven't been charged off?" Mr. Lee shouted into the phone. "I paid up – no, listen, I paid up a month before the bankruptcy! Don't tell me I didn't – what's that? Oh, don't 'sorry' me, you think I'm so stupid I wouldn't know the reason behind this? A violation of Section 809 is what I call it!" He disconnected and muttered, "Get me my lawyer," while making another call in unstable fury.

"Dad?" Fred shyly approached his father. He'd rarely seen his father in such a sorry state. His father, the rich and famous comic book writer, editor and publisher.

"Fred." Mr. Lee wearily smiled at his son while he put the call on hold. "I'm sorry you have to see this. Your mother, as you know, can't handle stress well." He pointed out to Mrs. Lee, who was on a relocated sofa, weeping into a tissue. The Lee family's butler, Heathcliff, was standing next to her, passing out tissues and holding a single glass of sherry on a tray. Heathcliff almost never showed any outward emotions, but Fred was sure he noticed the subtlest glimpse of sadness in even the butler's expression. He had served the Lee family for years, after all, and been a close friend to Fred. Heathcliff was a good butler.

"Dad, what happened?"

Mr. Lee shook his head. "After the last bombing, I've been trying to find out who the _heck_ these terrorists are, so I could alert the public. That's it! Too bad the FBI tracked my database down on the computer. They accused me of going against the "Anti-Vigilante Act" or some wish-wash. At the same time that they applied to us the penalty, I was fired from my job!"

"Wait, dad, why were you fired?"

"Huh. _Why,_ you ask. It's because when no one likes superheroes, comic book readers will go as far as boycotting your comics! I assume you noticed we've been having money problems over the last few months, son. Now, since we don't have enough to pay off this penalty debt…" Mr. Lee listlessly indicated at the collective workers. "And I can't even press for bankruptcy anymore. No one on the line will do anything, and that in itself is a crime. Don't you think it's too coincidental that at the same time I went broke, I was penalized for something that doesn't even go against the Act?"

Cries of protests ensured from all sides.

"But it's not fair!"

"It's way too coincidental! Someone's trying to blow you over!"

"I'm so sorry! Someone's definitely behind this!"

"I wish we could all help somehow, Pops!"

"Don't apologize! Here-" Mr. Lee beckoned Fred closer, so no one would notice him slipping a certain security pass into his hand. "Your old dad can't do it. But you guys can. Continue my work for me."

"Will the monitors and everything be…?"

"Yes. Surveillance proof. You know where to go. I'm counting on you." Mr. Lee solemnly winked at his son.

Fred saluted. "We won't let you down, Dad!" He turned to his friends. "C'mon, gang!"

Then Mr. Lee picked up on his line and he resumed ranting into the phone, and the nerd herd followed Fred through another set of bare rooms.

"Now remember, some of the workers might get suspicious of us," Wasabi warned. This sounded reasonable. The nerds now had to explain to suspicious workers that they were here just to share their condolences to their friend.

"In here." Fred let them into his father's private study room. After waving to Gogo to shut the door behind her, he walked up to a coat rack attached to the wall. After deciphering a moment for the right one, he pulled the third hook down as though it were a lever. The rack automatically flipped into the adjoining wall, producing a rectangular frame from the other side.

"6 – 0 – E – Z – P – Z," Fred muttered, tapping 6-digit code into the PIN box.

Gogo snorted. " _EZ PZ_? Really?"

Fred shrugged. "Hey, my dad likes to play with words."

Next, Fred swiped his double electronic key card into the slot above the code. A smaller screen above it flashed green.

"Here's my favorite part." Fred put his hand against the screen; a second later, it blinked, and a low rumbling sound emerged from below, shaking the ground the gang on top of which the gang was standing.

"You might wanna step back for this," Fred said calmly. He spoke the truth: part of the ground below the coat hanger receded into a spiraling stone stairway. Wasabi whistled. Gogo only shrugged and said, "Hidden stairway. Original."

"A staircase…is more than it appears," Fred replied dramatically, tuning into Marvel comic-book mode. "It separates who are you are from who you can be. You do not have to walk through it… You can run!"* And with a rejuvenated whoop, he rushed down the stairs. Then _smack._ "Whoops, flashlight." A light switched on down below.

The rest of the gang glanced at each other with anticipation before proceeding down the dank, musty-smelling stairs.

Downstairs, Fred entered in another passcode. An iron door, similar to one from a bunker, automatically pushed open.

"Annnd…voila!" Fred beckoned into the dark vault. He clapped his hands, making the overhead LED lights flicker on.

The gang walked into a large room divided into several parts. Judging by the sofas, bookshelf filled with books and comics, and even a small pantry carved into a wall, one side was the sitting/conference room. The other side was more high-tech; different types of computers and monitors lined the other side.

"The tech is so 2000's, if not 90's," Gogo stated bluntly as she turned on one computer. "But it'll do." When the screen flashed requested a login pass-code, Fred helped by typing in a complicated string of keywords and numbers.

"My dad taught me all the passes to this place," Fred explained in response to Gogo's befuddled look, questioning how on earth this douchebag of a fanboy could remember all the secret passcodes to here. "The last time I was here, I was seven. All my life, however, Pops taught me top-secret codes to different top-secret stuff around the house, so even secret investigators can't find them." He leaned closer, partly cupping his hand around his mouth. "That's why they're called top-secret."

"Hey, Freddie!" Honey Lemon called from the pantry. She was digging around the shelves to provide everyone with some green tea, her favorite, as well as snacks. She found chips, dried beef jerky, pancake mix, beans, dried blueberries, and other survival foods. "Who keeps this place trim if you haven't been here since _seven_?"

"Heathcliff. He comes once or twice a year, I think. You can also thank him for the food supply." Fred fished out a pack of chips and, with several strips of comic books in hand, plopped down on the nearest sofa and began to read.

"Is there any S.H.I.E.L.D tech hidden here?" Wasabi thought out loud, checking around for any possible secret compartments.

"Here, let me show you." Fred put down his comic book and pressed a button on the wall. A section opened, revealing a closet full of your average, typical superhero suits. Down the aisle, unusual guns and weapons resided in racks.

"Don't get too excited," Fred said as Wasabi wandered in, looking awed. "These are just the most basic provisions. S.H.I.E.L.D has – well, used to – have more, much more, to write home about."

"Still," Wasabi said, picking up a katana and expertly twirling it around with a single hand, "This might come in handy one day-"

"DROP THE FREAKING KATANA, 'SABI!" Fred hollered, diving behind a super suit.

"Eugh!" Wasabi shrieked like a girl. For when the twirling katana gained enough acceleration, it released a line of fire, which flew and scorched a few spots in the room. Wasabi shrieked even louder, screaming for water. Luckily, the fires were small, and both Fred and Wasabi were able to stamp or smother the flames down with everything they could grab next to them, including superhero capes, superhero boots and (Fred guffawed when he later realized this) superhero underwear.

"Let's be glad it didn't emit plasma blasts," Wasabi said in a high-pitched voice, still shocked.

"Yup," said Fred smugly, putting the katana back on its rack. "Like I said, this baby's nothing compared to real S.H.I.E.L.D tech, I bet."

"What are two boys doing?" Gogo called out from her place at the computer. She was so used to the boys' shenanigans that she didn't even glance their way.

"Oh, just stocking up on food and weapons cuz, you know, we follow the Mayan calendar,"** Wasabi said sarcastically. "We should ask the same about you."

"Connecting into your surveillance systems," Gogo said shortly. "You said it's government proof."

"So I did," Fred said. "Fun fact: we even have our own personal satellites that work, too – at least, I _hope_ they still work."

"They do." This was confirmed when suddenly, a series of icons popped up, displaying countless different camera shots of the city, including zoomed-in shots above all of San Fransokyo. Honey, Fred and Wasabi flocked over to Gogo.

"Right," said Gogo abruptly. "Does anyone remember what the FBI said? Where the evidence of a shinobi fight was found?"

"Ugh, I think…Canyon Blossom Way. Yes – yes!" Wasabi snapped his fingers. "Near Canyon Blossom Way!"

Gogo narrowed down the number of camera shots onscreen to the ones that showed Canyon Blossom Way, albeit with a little difficulty because, according to an irked Gogo, the computers were _so_ from the 2000s.

"Hey, at least they actually work!" Fred said in self-defense.

"Anyways," continued Honey Lemon, eager to keep the peace, "let's just skim over the footage down to when it was taken one week ago at, uh, what time, Gogo?"

"I believe it was eight o' something," Fred suggested.

Gogo played the recordings back to the appropriate times.

"Look!" Honey and Fred screeched at once, pointing to different shots.

" _And there they are,_ " Gogo muttered as she and her friends located the recording of Hiro and Baymax zooming along Canyon Blossom Way and turning into a dark alley. When Gogo slowed the video, she saw that a series of aerocopters followed after from the other side of the street. The alley where Hiro and Baymax smashed the portal, fought the shinobi, then haplessly became subdued by them. Everyone watched in apprehension as an unconscious Hiro and a tasered Baymax were loaded into an aerocopter before the aeorocopters flew away from view of the camera…

"Oh, no," Honey whispered, eyes filled with tears. "So they _did_ kidnap them."

Gogo was frantically turned on more cameras to locate the copters' tracks, but then she slammed her palms upon the keyboard and sighed.

"Forget it," she growled. "Even if we tracked them further down, they'll still lead to a portal that can lead anywhere."

"Now what?" Wasabi cried. "I- I know we keep hitting dead ends, but saying we have to do something about this is an understatement. No, we have to act _now!"_

"I may not be an expert in such matters, but aren't the international police searching for those _shinobi_ as we speak?" Fred asked hopefully.

"And what about the hashtag #BrinkBackOurPeople?" Honey Lemon asked. "I know that hashtags raise enough awareness and fund money to gain more global attention and precautions on such matters."

Wasabi scowled. "Honey, what _about_ hashtags? And Fred, the heck _they_ are. If they only put in more effort into it, they would've found some form of evidence! But it's like…it's like the shinobi are too good at hiding."

"Perhaps," Fred added, "but there's been a theory circulating the net that the police are threatened each time they put in the effort.

Gogo ignored the other three while researching on another monitor, this time with icons featuring different San Fransokian newsfeeds regarding the kidnappings over the past year. She knew was grasping at straws, but she needed any, any evidence, about this organization, for _some_ half-baked plan, any kind, to even begin to form.

Five minutes later, the debate behind Gogo turned into bickering.

"Got any ideas, then, ickle Freddy?" Wasabi said sarcastically. "No, all you do is sit behind your dumb comics and _never_ contribute to the conversation! No, all you know is how to spew lame superhero conspiracies."

"Hey, I try, okay?" Fred shot back, clearly offended. "Do _you_ have any good ideas to contribute, then?"

"For your information, #BringBackOurPeople is not just something to be disregarded! It's! A! Group! Effort! Okay?" Honey Lemon cried at the same time. "Hello-o! Does anyone hear me!" But since it was so unusual for her to vent her outward frustration like this, she recanted, suggesting in a pleading voice, "Guys, please! Let's calm down and talk this over with tea. How does tea sound? I just made some for all of us."

Gogo whipped around in her chair and slammed her palm so sharply against the desk that Fred and Wasabi shut up instantly and Honey Lemon winced.

"All of you are a bunch of incompetent numbskulls and that's it!" Gogo shouted, face red from rage. "You, Honey Lemon, love lingering around with your snacks. This isn't a tea party! You, Fred," she particularly pointed out her accusation at Fred, "do nothing but bum around and read comic books!"

The rest of the gang, unsurprisingly, was dumbfounded at her sudden rant. Honey Lemon blushed and stroked one hair strand over her ear; Fred looked down at his feet, feeling guilty over his fanboy comic book-reading reputation.

"And what's that supposed to make me?" Wasabi asked quietly.

Gogo mumbled something along the lines of "scream is so annoying."

"Say what now!?"

Gogo ignored him. "I'm sorry it has come to this," she said stiffly, "I know how you feel. You're tired, you feel like giving up, and you're nervous. Maybe even irritated. I understand: my own sister was killed because of… _them._ But if we're gonna accomplish anything, we work together."

"Whatever you say, Gogo," Honey Lemon said. "After all, you're technically the leader now. Do you have a plan?"

"I don't know. All of you, pitch in and think of something!" She rapped her fist against the table, making Honey Lemon wince again.

"Ahem." Fred stepped forward. "I don't know if this will contribute much, but isn't the first plan to find out exactly whom we're dealing against? The reason I 'read' my comicbooks is because I'm trying to remember and identify any villainous criminals who could be most similar to ours. After all, my dad did fight crime back in the days, so he should have based some fictional villains after the _shinobi_ , right?"

 _Finding out more about our adversaries before anything else. Hm,_ Gogo thought.

"Not a bad idea," was all Gogo said, while Fred looked relieved.

"But think about it: maybe the shinobi probably know a boatload more about us than we about them. How do we find them out?" Wasabi said.

"Ooh! Idea!" Fred raised his hand. "Number one: upgrade some more. Two: analyze the next probable place the enemy will strike. Three: we each subdue a shinobi and disguise ourselves as one, so we can follow the rest back to their lair."

"Well, the deep web always contained records of the most obscure criminal orgainzations, too," Gogo murmured thoughtfully.

Plan B looked more promising.

"Not a bad idea!" Fred said, bobbing his head excitedly.

"Are you kidding me?!" Wasabi cried hysterically. "Gogo, do you even _know_ the deep web?"

"Do you know how to hack into this deep web, then?" Honey Lemon asked.

"I'm still somewhat of an amateur, to be honest. But even if I was more experienced, I wouldn't know where to start. I don't know the first thing about this organization, its origins, and its possible relations with other crime organizations."

"Relations, relations…relations! Gogo, you're a genius!" Fred exclaimed. He whipped out his phone and started dialing.

"Who on earth-" Wasabi said, but was cut off as soon as the caller on the other end picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Shang, my man...Yeah, tell me, how much do you know about the deep web?"

* * *

Hands crossed behind her back, Dehlia studied the experiments: in front of her lay the dirty prototype of the object retrieved from the portal, Prototype 2. Next to it lay its clean counterpart – Baymax, or also known as Prototype 1. Both were lifeless, and both of their insides were exposed, having been tampered with to a certain degree.

" _Excellent,_ " she said softly, holding up a certain green chip to the light. She pressed her finger to her earpiece. "Katsuro, I found something in Prototype 1's access port."

"Good, good…how is the project coming along?" replied Katsuro from the other end.

Dehlia turned to the team of scientists. "They're making progress. It should be done soon enough."

"One question, dear."

"Make it quick, I don't have all day."

"Do enlighten me on this: we already collected Prototype 2, who will operate _bee-autifully._ Why did we need Prototype 1, again?"

A pause on Dehlia's end.

"Well...I thought we could use 1 as our backup should the time come. But for now," she replied, gripping Baymax's green chip tightly, "I would like to study this thing…maybe tweak it a bit. What do you think?"

* * *

 **Good news! I definitely think that my future chapters will lengthen, so even during sporadic updates, at least my readers will end up more satisfied, haha.**

 ***Based on a quote from Fantastic Four.**

 **** I know that some people won't get the joke, so I think I should clarify: it's said the Mayans had a calendar that predicts the year of the end of the world/apocalypse. Cue end-of-the-world jokes :P**

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	9. Enter Takeshi

Enter Takeshi

Hiro pounded his fists against the stainless white wall of his cell. The Tokushima girl's last words still burned like that hydrochloric acid he spilt on himself in Chemistry weeks ago. _"Have you ever wondered how your parents died?"_ were her last words before he was incarcerated here.

For the past hour, his mind ran rampant with questions. For one, he didn't know much about his parents. He could barely remember them, either, and therefore, he didn't exactly miss them. He couldn't. After all, he was three when, according to Tadashi, his parents died in a car crash.

 _Car crash…_

 _What does Dehlia know about this? What does the Giri have to do with them?_ With a sigh, Hiro pressed his aching head against the wall. He and his friends met and fought countless villains over the past two years. Some were as petty as the Fujita sisters. Others were more dangerous, to the point that Hiro more than once found himself captured, tortured, or having a brush with death. But this case was the most unusual. For one, the Giri appeared and then disappeared through time. Little was known about them. They were sort of like the missing link to worldwide "accidents". Two: The enemy had some broad goal. Most likely something along the lines of world domination, Hiro mused. Three: his parents were somehow involved.

 _But how?_ Hiro was certain he wasn't going to find the answer soon. At least, not with him stuck in here.

Speaking of stuck, he couldn't stop reprimanding himself: he refused freedom for the sake of what, relinquishing the power to save people? Couldn't he see that he needed to return home by all means? Couldn't he see that supers were forced into resignation, and he had no choice in the say? Why did he have to play the hero and dumbly refuse when his city, the Giri and maybe the whole world by now was against him?

 _I wonder how my friends are faring without me. Are they trying to find me? Did they find a way to track me down yet?_ Hiro thought dully. The squeaky-clean whiteness of his cell threatened to give him claustrophobia.

 _Claustrophobia. Ha. Gogo has it. At least I know how she feels now._ Hiro wasn't sure why he was thinking this in such a situation. That, and an empty feeling gnawing at his conscience, forced him to slump against the wall in despair and burrow his face into his knees. Tears threatened to spill out now, but he squeezed his eyes against his knees to block them out as well as his surroundings.

He missed them all: his friends, his Aunt Cass, Baymax, San Fransokyo, his normal-but-not-so-normal double life as a college student and a superhero. Heck, he almost missed the usual horde of fangirls that dropped by the café every so often, for goodness' sakes!

 _Did I just fail myself and everyone as a leader?_

His eyes widened as well as they could under his knees. Now that he was trapped, this was the first time he ever questioned his role in Big Hero 6. He was smarter than his friends put together, and he knew it. Naturally this put him more in the leadership role of the group, where his every misjudgment could put him and everyone he loved in jeopardy, giving him more weight of the consequences. For instance: now. Hiro was trapped. He didn't know what would happen to Baymax. And Heaven help the rest of the team if the _shinobi_ wanted to harm them.

 _I was so stupid…why didn't I agree to Dehlia – or at least, pretend I would, then skirt my way around from there? Nice going, Hiro. Some genius you are._

Hiro heard some whirring up ahead. He looked up: the middle of the table top slowly rose to reveal small compartments filled with food and delicate tableware inside.

Dinnertime, if you could call it that.

Even despair couldn't stop Hiro from feeling starved after an entire week of unconsciousness. Reluctantly, he staggered up, pulled out a chair and half-heartedly pulled out some food from their divided compartments: baked fish stuffed with noodles from one steaming compartment, miso soup from another, rice, and freshly brewed tea. Everything was piping hot.

 _They feed their prisoners well, looks like._

Elbow propped on table and wearing a bored look to show apathy should any cameras be spying on him, Hiro half-heartedly poured some soybean sauce on a fish and brought a piece to his mouth.

"I'd spit that out if I were you."

Hiro jumped and dropped his chopsticks with a clatter. He wildly glanced around to determine the source of the voice. A voice that was highly unlikely to reach him in such a well-secured place.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the voice said, reprimanding. "You should know better than to go swiveling your heard around like that, dummy. Don't you know they see your every move?"

"Who are you? Where are you? WHAT are you?" Hiro cried without thinking. He made to get up. He was sure the voice came from behind the glass partition between him and the study lab.

"Oh, nononono, sit down – I said sit down! Stay calm – do you want me to get in trouble? Now calmly, slowly, retake your seat."

It was near impossible to get startled by someone's voice in this dead stillness – friend or foe, he didn't know – and come away unperturbed, but Hiro calmly, slowly, did what the voice told him.

"Now, if you're smart, you wouldn't take a bite."

Hiro couldn't help but snap he was so hungry.

"And so, what do you propose I eat, then? I'm a human being, unlike you, probably." His stomach growled as he said that. And the miso soup did smell oh, _so_ tantalizing…

"Hmmm..." the synthesized voice dwindled. "I wouldn't eat anything too, erm, _complex._ Fish with noodles? Puh- _lease,_ it's screaming poison. Soybean sauce. Ehhh...I'd steer clear of that too. The rice might be your safest bet."

"What are you, some conspiracy theorist? Why would the Giri want to poison me right now? I think they need me alive."

The robotic voice laughed. "Me? Oh, I'm nothing compared to my friend, who is a sound conspiracy theorist...but yes. If you count purposely genetically modified food that slowly dulls your mental state, like fluoride, to the point of submission to whatever Katsuro wants you to do as poison, then I got some bad news for you, friend."

"And why should I trust you?"

"You can't. But you want to risk it?"

Not entirely disbelieving but still too hungry to think over it much, Hiro shoveled as much plain rice into his mouth as could. He grabbed more rice refills till he started choking.

"You're Hiro Hamada, aren't you?" the voice asked inquisitively after a few minutes when Hiro's scarfing down slowed. Hiro could only hope that the "voice" wasn't also spying on him.

Hiro slowly laid down his chopsticks. He wasn't exactly full, but full enough that his hunger pains alleviated him. He edged around the glass partition to the lab. "Yea, and you?" he asked warily.

The voice gave out a synthesized sigh. "Never mind who I am. I came all this way to talk to _you._ "

"I'm here, silly, through the monitor," the voice added teasingly when Hiro looked around for the source of the voice and turned on the monitor, causing several transparent screens to pop up around him.

"Oh..." Hiro realized that the voice was coming from the speaker aka a small wireless cube connected to the computers. "But why don't you tell me who you a-"

"Listen, I don't have much time," the voice cut him off. "They monitor everything here, so let me keep this short. Hiro Hamada, whatever you do, do _not_ relinquish your rights and your identity to this bloodthirsty corporation. If they don't get your superhero buddies first, they'll find a way to control your mind. Like I said, the manipulation lies even in the food you eat!"

"What!"

"Tell me, Hiro Hamada, have you seen how scraggly and just pitiful the Giri's own scientists look around here?"

Hiro flashbacked to when he bumped into the lady at the hospital facility. He remembered how unfocused, how glazed-over her eyes were. It made Hiro wonder whether the scientists even possessed an individual mind anymore. Perhaps they were more like robots, assigned to work till they broke down.

 _Sick._

"I know what you mean," Hiro mumbled. "I knew that Tokushima girl, whatever her name is, was hiding something."

The voice made an authentic puking sound, which could've sounded funnier in another situation.

" _Dehlia,_ " the voice spat, full of vehemence. "Congratulations, Hamada, you just talked with most famous serial killer you've _never_ heard of. Yeah, that seducing little half-breed with her mafia crime lord of a dad."

"Her?!"

Snort. "Yeah, her, you didn't think that good lookers could also be serial killers, right?"

"I didn't say she was…"

"I understand, kid. Look, I don't have much time. I really shouldn't be here," the voice whispered frantically. "In the meanwhile, Hiro Hamada, _trust no one."_

 _Trust no one. Run before it's too late. Yeah, right. Such vague warnings. Who am I kidding, talking to someone I don't even trust?_ Hiro though desperately.

"You're making no sense!" Hiro shouted into the speakers.

Too late. The computers blinked back into their normal screensavers.

"Fine, then!" Hiro slapped the turned-off speakers away from himself and sauntered away, muttering under his breath. "Fine, you might as well tell me something as stupid as that, like how to throw a brick straight in the air for all I care!"

"Talking to yourself, more like?" a suave, sickeningly familiar voice sounded behind him. Uttering a startled cry, Hiro jumped again to face his captor. Her arms were crossed and, like last time, her face was unreadable.

"I was – why, yes, talking to myself," he muttered, correcting himself quickly. Now that he thought about it, no wonder the anonymous voice turned off when it did.

"I've studied you closely," Dehlia continued in a brisk tone. "Hiro Hamada, inventor of the Microbots, perfector of the surgical Galenus bot, among fifteen other things, I wager. You even contributed to some groundbreaking theories of robotics." She eyes narrowed. "I even liked your section on the, what was it, theory of technological singularity in the WIRED magazine?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, but my 'theories' are still not proven," Hiro said dryly, clenching his fists together. How she knew so much about him was creepy enough, but he was sure she knew exactly what she was getting at. "So if you want me to invent something fancy, you have the wrong guy."

Dehlia uttered a single ironic laugh. "Ha! But that's exactly why I _didn't_ come. No... I want you to help me recreate something. Something so complex, only few special individuals have had access to the data. It's the key to-" here Dehlia leaned forward, as though divulging a great secret, " _artificial intelligence._ "

"I don't know what you're talking about, and unlike you, I know nothing about this family matter," Hiro stated coldly. "Artificial intelligence has many different connotations, you know."

"Exactly. We have the weak AI, or strong AI, also known as a hypothetical intelligence which works on a human's level," Dehlia responded, even adding in a subtle purr of amusement. "But I'm talking about _sentient AI_." Here she whipped out a green chip.

Baymax's chip.

"Is that-is that-?" Hiro spluttered, too furious for words. Without thinking, he blindly lunged at the chip. Dehlia didn't flinch, and no wonder, for as soon as Hiro grabbed at the chip, his hand passed right through hers.

"So you're- you're a holographic display," Hiro said listlessly. Facing her, he clenched the edge of the desk-top to regain his self-control. "No offense, lady, but you are one despicable coward if I ever saw one."

"Coward, hm?" For the first time, Dehlia raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. "If I had a dollar for every time my associates tried to _kill_ me each time I visited them in person, let alone call me a coward, I would have enough to pay for their insurance coverages at the morgue for at least half of them. That's a _lot_ of people." She narrowed her eyes. "If you're smart, then you wouldn't stir up any more trouble. Now Sit. Down."

She didn't say it aloud, but Hiro got the message clearly across: _Just try to provoke me, and you'll wish you were dead before you're dead._

"What did you do to Baymax's chip?" Hiro repeated once he slumped down in his seat.

"Oh…" Dehlia absentmindedly twirled the chip, "I borrowed it, analyzed it. You know, you wonder how an individual personality could be stored in one single, elementary chip. Oh, don't worry," she scoffed in response to Hiro's angry interruptions, "it's not like I even dissected this…yet." Dehlia turned her gaze to Hiro.

"The faster you answer me my questions, though-" with one slender, pale finger, she hooked her finger under Hiro's chin as though forcing him to meet her sharp eyes – which wouldn't have technically been possible for a normal hologram but seeing that it was _tangible,_ the tingle of its pixels made Hiro shiver – "the faster I can return what I borrowed. Where exactly did you find the prototypes to build this chip? I want to know every single detail."

"I, er-" Hiro jerked away from her first.

 _Geez, man, why is she so touchy?_

"My brother built the chip, so I wouldn't know the details," Hiro stated, looking directly into Dehlia's eyes to convey that he was being honest with her.

"Oh, really?" Dehlia raised an eyebrow – her way of showing any remote excitement. "And where did your brother get those prototypes?"

"I don't _know_ ," Hiro said irritably. "Why do you think that he built Baymax based on some _prototypes_? Baymax was his original invention."

"Or is it, now?" Dehlia slowly circled around Hiro. "If he did, then he's a true genius, isn't he?"

"You have no idea…"

"But no, sadly he was never as intelligent as you, am I correct?" She drew back and started pacing the floor, talking more to herself than to Hiro at this point. "Which is why I get the benefit of the doubt. Though true, I did send my team to search their house for clues, and they found nothing that his brother could've based his invention on..."

With a jolt, Hiro realized that it was _his_ house that she was talking about.

 _For long has she been spying on me?!_

"So if Tadashi didn't create Baymax's programming first, then who did?" Hiro asked, more out of curiousity this time."

A long pause.

"Your father."

"What!"

"There's no other explanation for it! A robot that actually cares for people like an emotional being? Please! This is so like Yoshiro Hamada to try and 'help the world'. That said, since it's emotional intelligence is so on par with humans', apparently this being does have potential to corrupt itself, and that can be dangerous for society. So to reduce the risk of anyone finding out, your father must have, oh I don't know, hid the concept for such a robot somewhere. Maybe passed it down to someone."

"I said, I have no idea about any of this," Hiro stated flatly.

"I'd accuse you of lying, but you sound so genuine," Dehlia sighed. "So here's what you'll do." She indicated at the study lab. " _You_ will recreate the prototypes for the programming. Every material, every book and reference guide is at your convenience."

"You're crazy if you think I'm doing this favor for you," Hiro hissed. "'Sides, why me?"

"Good question." Dehlia absentmindedly held up a miniature makeup mirror to her face while she spoke. "Because if you're lying and you carry this knowledge with you, then I'd start right away. If you're _not_ lying…well, it won't matter. In the end, child prodigies are extremely rare to find, much less those who have been around a real sentient robot. You have experience – I don't. It's your father, not mine, who actually created the first sentient A.I, despite certain claims. Remember, it's up to you." She snapped the mirror shut and coldly glared at him. "Your friends are in distress. Do you want them to suffer more based on your choice?"

"Don't you dare touch them!" Hiro yelled. But Dehlia had already pixelated out of sight.

 _That's it…I have no choice but to work for someone who will probably use me to hurt others, including those I love. I shouldn't have to be stuck with that choice…_

There was no more glossing over about it this time. Now, the blackmailing from Dehlia couldn't be any more blatant.

Hiro leaned his head against the wall. Much as he hated to admit to admit it, he felt defeat.

 _Now what?_

Fingers crossed that the anonymous voice (It seemed no more than a voice in his head, by now!) could ground him into reality again before he got panic attacks or worse, go insane from claustrophobia.

* * *

Just great.

Hiro lost count of the days he was stuck in here. First, Hiro feigned procrastination by building fifteen different kinds of bombs out of scratch (The said "scratch" having come from a spare lab behind another door) and blowing them up next to the wall accessing the outside of the prison. Fourteen of the bombs exploded with no result. One exploded with no result _and_ sent a dismembered glass shard flying at Hiro and earning him a graze at the side of his forehead.

It's not like he really _meant_ to bust out of here, Hiro thought to himself as he forcefully tore off a long piece of gauze and tied it around his forehead. It was impossible. He was doing it just to spite Dehlia rather than escape, he figured.

Now, leaning back into his chair with his feet across the table, Hiro crinkled used-up paper and tossed them into the garbage without much aim.

 _Miss._

 _And to be honest, I'm bored._

Hiro stood straight up and scowled. He was so fed up with everything. With that geisha-faced girl and her minions. With his daily diet of plain rice – he doubted he could take much more, even if he was starving. With himself for leaving his friends with barely a moment's notice and then trapping himself. He didn't know too much about technology here, let alone the technology of an atom-bound wall.

 _Some genius you sure are, Hiro._

Even by villain standards, he felt so low – Sweet Mother of Megabots, you don't just lock up someone without negotiating further, then assuming that that your prisoner is lying about the prototypes. Well, he _could_ try to recreate the chip, if she insisted so. But maybe it wasn't that simple. Dehlia was inquisitive because there was something unique about Baymax's programming. He just knew it.

 _But then, I only built Baymax's new body, not the chip, so I can't say I studied the latter in extensive detail…_

* * *

 _"_ _Hiro."_

 _"_ _Tadashi," Hiro croaked. No, it couldn't be, of course it couldn't. It was another one of his wish-fulfilling dreams where Tadashi's voice, all down to the intonation and tone, came to haunt him again. But no matter what, he couldn't stop reaching out._

 _"_ _Tadashi," Hiro repeated, calling out to the void. "Where are you?! Please…don't leave me here. Don't torture me like this!"_

 _"_ _Hiro."_

 _"_ _Tadashi!"_

"PSST! Hiro!"

"What, what?!" Hiro jerked out of his sleep, caught himself clinging to the verge of his bed, flailed his arms back to keep from falling, then his body position shifted and with a startled yell he really did fall. He furiously fumbled around on the floor, untangling himself from the sheets. As a reflex, he glanced around to where he thought he last heard Tadashi's voice. The Woopsy lamp and lighting around the bedside gave off a gentle glow…

But other than that…

Nothing.

 _But it sounded so real this time._

"Tadashi…" he repeated weakly.

"Ugh, finally you're awake. I've been calling."

Hiro nearly jumped out of his skin. Not for the last time. That voice again – but it sounded so close.

"Where are you – is that you – why were you gone for so long?" Hiro cried.

The voice immediately tried in intervene.

"SSHHH! Keep it down! Please, I beg you, keep it down!" the voice pleaded. But that time, much to Hiro's surprise, he founded that the source of the voice came from none other than-

"My comm-watch?" Hiro peered at his wrist more closely.

"Yes, yes," the voice whispered breathlessly. "Long story. Just – keep it down, okay? Don't you know this place is bugged?"

Hiro was about to respond, but-

"Do _not_ respond to me!" the voice added. "Since you sort of already busted yourself yelling out to the wind like this, Dehlia might get suspicious and ask who you were talking to, and then I'm busted for real!" The voice ended with a sigh. Hiro wisely held his tongue and tore his eyes away from his watch – casually.

"Tell you what," the voice continued whispering, "You can fake it. Pretend you're dazed, like you just woke up from a bad dream. Look around, maybe even continue talking – to yourself, that is. Then just casually stride back into bed right under the covers, so the cameras won't catch you. Then just stay under there and tune in to me – and _whisper._ I need to talk to you."

"Mm." Hiro played along, doing just as he said. He even took the time to get calmly get some water before resuming lying down again.

"This is Hiro Hamada, reporting in," Hiro said once he pulled the sheets over his head.

"You under cover yet?"

"Yep. Why didn't you respond in so long?"

"Ha! We were both idiots, but mostly it was me. Security must've surveyed the cameras from our last encounter, because then the communications system I hacked into shut down, and they nearly caught tracked me. She knew someone was talking to you."

"How did you access me this time?"

"Eh, I broke into Dehlia's private lab. Fun fact: I dunno what marshmallows have ever done to her, but, I found half-mutilated one there. Don't wanna come off as a stalker, but I know enough that you own a "healthcare" robot, so I assumed maybe it was yours. Then I found the marshmallow's helmet. So, yeah."

Hiro's eyes widened, and he nearly stopped breathing.

"Baymax?" he rasped. It was all he could do to keep from yelling. "H-how is he? Where is he? May I talk to him?" His expression then dropped. "But – what do you mean 'half-mutilated'?" Anticipation filled him almost as quickly, draining out any remaining relief.

The voice chuckled weakly. "Okay, maybe not _mutilated,_ exactly, but he's just lying there on the operation table. Stomach exposed. Eyes staring into an endless abode, to put it lightly. Sheesh, what _does_ Dehlia have against marshmallows?"

"Can I talk to him?"

"Ehhh, no."

"Come on!"

"Shh! First of all, I wouldn't risk turning on a bot currently under operation, okay? Second, I don't know _how_ to."

"Just press the button on the-"

"And third, we really, really mustn't waste time. I'm in a tight situation here, and I don't even know when we can talk again."

Hiro was tempted to make a scathing remark, but refrained when he thought about it. An unknown stranger was putting himself at risk to tell him something. Maybe even warn him.

"Right then," Hiro said, forcing himself to drop the subject for now. _Perhaps next time._ "You wanted to tell me something?"

"How 'bout we start with Dehlia?"

"Yeah, you told me what she's some crazed murderer, but who is Dehlia, anyways? Tell me more."

"' _Who is Dehlia?'_ " the voice mimicked before breaking off into a harsh, ironic laugh. "Of course you don't know Katsuro Tokushima and his little minion, Dehlia! She is a charming, self-proclaimed genius with an IQ up to the roof. She also killed countless in the terrorist enterprise that she has connections with as long as it benefits her. But hooo, boy, you're better off dead if you knew how she manipulates her captors. She kidnaps scientists – how else is the Giri so technologically advanced? Sure, they might resist at first, but like I said, subtle mental brainwashing turns you into a submissive sheep! Then, when your mind gets too dumbed down to function properly…well, you're dispatched, let's call it that way."

Well, it really did explain the condition of that scientist-lady he met in the facility room, anyhow.

 _Double sick._

"And who's Katsuro?" Hiro asked warily.

"Katsuro Tokushima? Oh, he's also a genius, though I love that his own daughter Dehlia's IQ surpasses even his." Hiro could trace a sign of a smirk in the voice. "Anyways, former inventor and tycoon, he's now executive director of the virtually unheard-of Giri. You think Dehlia's unsettling enough? Wait till you meet Katsuro. He's an actual sadist; methods of revenge range from ruining the lives of those you love to slowly killing you with groundbreaking torture weapons that he himself designed. And his laugh! It's like something out of a superhero flick, for real!"

"Guy sounds creepy."

"He is. I hope you don't ever chance to meet him."

"One more question: what is the Giri, anyways?"

"The Giri might be an intelligence agency, but _that's what enabled it to degenerate into a dangerous terrorist organization in the first place."_

"I thought it was-"

"Anti-terrorist? Right. Don't listen to Dehlia's lies. It's anything but. 'Intelligence agency', pfft! A fancy name for an international criminal syndicate led by Katsuro."

Hiro thought hard on this one.

"I see…but what does Katsuro want? What does any of that have to do with my parents?" He grabbed chunks of his messy hair. "Dehlia mentioned my parents!"

"Listen, kid, I don't know. Even I am kept in the dark about a lot. By the looks of it, the Giri has a vendetta either against supers, or sassy smartypants like you aka brilliant people, or sometimes both, since two often tend to be one. Like you."

Hiro sighed. "But I still don't know what they want to do with me. Dehlia is pressuring me to recreate-"

"And did you follow her orders?"

"…No."

"Good," the voice spat. "God knows what she'll do with her creations. Either way, you're going to end badly unless you escape pronto. I wouldn't even trust rice if I were you."

"I _dieted_ for weeks based on what you-"

"Good. Bet you're sick of even that, right?"

"Yes...any ideas, Mr. Voice-That-I-Still-Think-Exists-In-My-Head?"

The voice gently chuckled.

"Actually, the name's Takeshi. Takeshi Matsumoto. There, now you know I'm real. But anyways, that's why I'm here. I'm going to _help_ you, starting now. You leave this part of the plan to me. I know the ins and outs of the Giri, and this might be my advantage. You, meanwhile, pretend to progress on this project. Tell Dehlia you might have something; you know?"

Meanwhile, three thousand miles away, the nerd herd were fighting tooth and nail for their team leader and friend.

* * *

 ***Runs, trips and falls forward, dropping chapter forward into the fanfiction realm.* I'M HERE...No...I did NOT dissappear...*wheeeeeze*...off the face of fanfiction after all...and I'm sorry I'm not a regular updater. I'm not an expert in time-managing, even less so in writing sci-fi! BUT...never fear! I am NOT gonna leave this story unfinished!**

 **Also, I apologize if the plot seems to be dragging along right now, but don't worry! I still have ideas to make this story progress forward.**

 **Thanks for reading! Keep the reviews comin'! xD**

 **KoolKat189**


	10. Dark Net

Darknet

The good news: after Fred poured out to Shang Li their dilemma, the old-timer was happily willing to come to the base and help his friends dig some information in the dark web about _shinobi_. He brought along with him the latest laptop brand to work with, since he insisted that Fred's old monitors had less security, and the familiar suitcase full of random widgets that he carried everywhere.

Together, Gogo and Li downloaded the Tor browser bundle for access to the deep net, installed a VPN for further protection from hackers, and came to a plethora of deep web sites on the HiddenWiki page. The URLs were categorized into Emails, Chatrooms, Social Networks, Political Advocacies, and the dodgier stuff underneath. But what they were looking for, according to Shang Li, was to connect with any syndicates of the Sun Ye On triad from China, since they were the ones who kept secret files on countless criminal organizations on the dark net from around the world

"You know the _shinobi_ , too?" Shang Li had asked in surprise, when asked if he knew of any organization that had silver-suits for terrorists. "When I was in Sun Ye On, I hear they part of Giri. Very obscure. I don't know much, myself."

"Wait, you were part of a Chinese crime organization? Wow," Gogo said dubiously, and gave a low-wolf-whistle. Behind Shang Li, Wasabi choked on his donut, had a silent coughing fit hacking it up, and warily edged away from the ex-mafia member.

"Fred! Did you know this all along when you asked him here?" Honey asked.

Fred casually waved off the astonishment. "Pshaw, Shang Li and I are so close he even told me secrets that I bet he didn't tell you."

Half an hour later, after much communication back and forth between Li and a chatroom messenger, Shang Li sucked in a deep breath and leaned back in his chair to stretch. His friends immediately flocked over.

"Whatcha get, Shang?"

"Have you made some darknet contract with a mafia bad guy yet?"

"Any information leaks yet?"

Shang Li smiled through defeat. "No, friends, not even close!"

"What?!"

"I contact one boss of the ShangDon region," Shang Li explained. "I give him my former identity. Then he recognize me, I ask if he know about Giri, and he says he don't work with me because I am ex-Sun Ye On! He don't trust me!"

The students all groaned.

"No worry – I won't give up!"

Three hours later, still no result. Shang Li, experienced as he was in the triad field, tried getting other Sun Ye On contacts, including some of his past drug lord friends. He even went full triad himself and tried blackmailing by sending viruses to their networks and threatening to expose their illegal transactions to the public. It backfired when an angry mafia member in the Guangdon region sent him a message: "We know where you are, Mr. Li." At that point the SFIT students literally had to pull Shang Li off the computer before he provoked any Chinese hitmen.

So, the bad news: The mafia was stubborn.

"It no use!" Shang Li cried in a rare fit of frustration. "They all too stubborn. Ai-ya, I think they too busy to manage with me anyways."

"Well, on the bright side, at least we have a clear-cut goal!" said Honey Lemon hopefully.

Gogo, who silently listened, leapt to her feet.

"What about these two scientists that attacked us?" she wondered aloud. "Has anyone thought of asking them about the Giri?"

"Good one, Gogo!" Fred cried, snapping his fingers. "Only, where can we track them?"

"They're still in the hospital. I hope. A lot of people were hospitalized after the explosion."

"You're a genius, Gogo!" Fred cried, laughing aloud and slapping his thigh in enthusiasm. "Have you caught the names, though?"

Gogo shook her head. "I can try to hack into the hospital's core database and give you a list of patients and their ailments. Might make it simpler to track."

"Excellent!" Honey Lemon cheered. "All right," she announced, "With your leave, Gogo, I'll go hunt them down. Gogo, you want to come, then?"

"I'm helping Shang Li with negotiating."

"Fred?" Honey turned hopefully towards the comic-book lover. Fred was too busy in his comic-book-sleuthing to answer her. Or maybe, as usual, he was just entertaining himself.

Honey then turned to Wasabi, who looked like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him on the spot.

"I mean," Wasabi whispered nervously, " _They tried to kill us!"_

"Go," Gogo said in a firm voice. "At least you don't have to wade through deep web muck filled with videos of Chinese assassins who mutilate their victims in thirty-four different ways. I know, I counted."

Wasabi didn't want to hear more.

"C'mon, Honey!" he called with a determined spirit, rummaging into Fred's super suit closet in search of spare weapons (The gang's usual suits and weapons had been confiscated by the FBI during the hospital stay). "You ready to go get some fresh air and kick some mad scientists' butts?"

* * *

Wasabi and Honey Lemon stepped out of the underground base with Gogo's hacked files of the patients' identities printed on several pages. As Wasabi said, they really did need "some fresh air."

Stan Lee, who was out in the vast living room, had just hung up after a distressing phone call. Shaking his head, he turned to Heathcliff and spoke to him, though the conversation was out of earshot for Honey and Wasabi.

"Poor guy," Wasabi whispered sorrowfully. "What can go worse for the Lee family?"

And the two students proceeded on. Outside, Wasabi blinked at the rising sunlight peeping through the buildings. Few cars at this time of day lined the road.

"What time is it?" Honey Lemon murmured.

Wasabi checked his watch. "Six in the morning. Wow, we sure lost track of time."

"Honey Lemon yawned. "Yeah. Sorry I'm out of focus here, by the way. Didn't sleep for two days here, apart from kitty naps. Maybe I'll get some green tea." She looked towards the sunrise.

"Poor Hiro," she murmured softly, "I know he's out there, somewhere under this orange-pinkish pastel-colored sky…"

"Get some sleep!" Wasabi exclaimed. "You're scaring me! You don't usually wax poetic unless you're dead tired."

Honey Lemon violently shook her head. "I'm fine," she said briefly. "The sooner find out our patients' names and identities, the sooner we find Hiro! I mean, I dunno, Hiro's probably being tortured for all we know!" Honey Lemon ended the sentence in near hysterics.

"Yup. I rest my case," Wasabi confirmed. He scanned the hospital pages. "Hang on – I think I found them! I found our scientists." He shook a groggy Honey Lemon and pointed. He found two portfolios and pictures of two likely patients he was almost sure he could recognize from before. Aside from medical history, allergy information and other topics, these were the pieces of information that Wasabi deemed crucial to their discovery:

 _Gregory Laird_

 _Diagnosis: Tertiary injury. cracked skull, patellar dislocation. Shock disorder._

 _Job: Nuclear physicist._

 _Chen Roberts_

 _Diagnosis: Primary injury. Brain Concussion. Gastrointestinal injury, Heavy internal bleeding. Pulmonary contusion. Currently in coma: moderate on a GCS scale of 13._

 _Job: Nuclear physicist._

* * *

"You ready for this?" Wasabi whispered.

Honey nodded tensely. She and Wasabi were standing outside of room 92, where the hospital receptionist told them Roberts and Laird were.

Honey touched her filled tote bag, and Wasabi his pocket knife. Before the hospital visit, Honey Lemon visited her lab because she "had inspiration," she said. A few audible chemical explosions later, she came out with a splotched lab coat and some burned hair follicles, but with a bag filled with chem balls and a brighter smile than Wasabi had seen in days. Wasabi, on the other hand, considered remaking the laser gauntlets Hiro had made for him, but ended up making a small spare laser knife since 1) Wasabi was an extremely slow worker and 2) well, it was genius Hiro who invented the gauntlets for Wasabi.

The two SFIT students pushed open the door. The man nearest to them had three quarters of his body covered in bandages. He was in a coma, just like the list said. The other patient must've been Gregory Laird, also bandaged heavily. Roberts's bedside was filled with flowers and get-well cards. Laird looked up from his book as soon as the SFIT students came in.

"Yes?" he said quietly, with apprehension in his eyes. No doubt he was sure he recognized these two folks, including the tall girl that he and his companion subdued previously.

"Why did you bomb the Tadashi Hamada Hall?" Honey Lemon asked him, simply and shortly.

Laird's eyes widened. Without giving a further answer, he flung himself as best he could near the bedside towards the buzzer to alert a nurse. "Help! Help!" he croaked. "Intruders!"

But Wasabi whipped the laser knife out his pocket and he flung it towards the electrical cord connected to the buzzer and severed it. At the same time, Honey Lemon shot a chem ball at Laird, which exploded all over his body and hardened so that it bound him to his bed.

"You heard the lady!" Wasabi yelled, bringing the knife to Laird's IV tube. "Who are you people, and why did you explode the Hall?"

"Go…to…hell!" Laird croaked.

"Fine." Wasabi gave the tube ever the slightest prick; a thin steam of liquid dribbled out.

"Wasabi," Honey whimpered. "Please…"

Still Laird remained undeterred.

"Kill me then," he shot back. " I'm tired of running away from it after all those years! I deserve death. I welcome death. I don't care about anything!"

"Wasabi!" Honey pulled back at Wasabi's clenched hand, but he jerked it away.

"Or _do_ you?" With a furious glint in his eye, Wasabi trudged over to Roberts and held the knife near the catheter tube attached to him. "I heard he has pulmonary contusion, no? You know, I wonder how long it takes for liquid to accumulate in the lungs without the tube to help drain it?"

Laird's bloodshot eyes didn't flinch from Wasabi's trembling hand. Wasabi's eyebrows narrowed. "Your choice." He swung back his hand as though to hack the tube off.

"STOP!" Laird croaked.

"Stop!" Lemon shrieked at the same time.

Wasabi sheathed his knife aside and waited. To their mild surprise, Laird was _crying._

"Not…my very…best…friend," Laird gasped tearfully. "Roberts is my best friend. We promised to look after each other."

"I know. Hiro Hamada is also our best friend." Honey Lemon crept up behind the heaving, irate Wasabi. "And he was kidnapped by the very organization which you work for."

"Do you think I _wanted_ to work for the Giri?" the man snapped. "Do you think I'd _like_ to keep secrets from the world? No! More than half of Giri's recruits are bought! Or used. But if I tell you more," he said silently, "Tokushima will kill my friend, if not me. He knows he's the only guy I got left to care about. Roberts…look at him. At least he's got a family!" He nodded his head at Robert's bedside table – the one overflowing with flowers and get-well cards. "And Tokushima's targeting them! That's why Chen's working for the Giri. And- and Tokushima knows I only have Roberts, and that's why I have to work for the Giri, too! To protect him! Doctors aren't sure Roberts will even wake up!"

Wasabi's gaze softened. Honey Lemon bit back tears. To put it straight: _they were blackmailed._

"We know," Honey Lemon said softly. "We know what it's like. But for your friend's sake, tell us about the Giri. This is an emergency. We _will_ try to avenge you and your friend."

"Tell no one about this!" Laird demanded.

Honey Lemon and Wasabi held up their hands in agreement.

"And get this dratted stuff off my body!"

"Oh. Right," Honey said, slightly blushing. She threw another chemical at Laird, which caused the crystalized layer to ooze away to the ground. Let's just say that Laird still looked like a hot pink mess, but at least he wasn't bound any longer.

"Well, then," he started with great reluctance. "First off, they weren't called the Giri back then. They had some other fancy-schmancy name. The Black Death Syndicate or something. Anyways, what you should know is that we used to thrive in SHIELD, okay? Roberts and I, we worked there! It conquered small corporations of baddies every day in San Fransokyo and around the world. We were going big, okay? Now, picture this: there was one brilliant guy, one of the smartest in SHIELD. For instance, he's taken artificial intelligence into such advanced fields that world has yet to see. But oh, he was so famous for his egotistical nature, too. He had come disagreements with SHEILD, and out of anger, he split away, formed The Black Death Syndicate, recruited some members, and kidnapped unwilling ones, too."

"Is he Tokushima? You know, the guy you previously mentioned?" Wasabi asked.

"Exactly: Katsuro Tokushima. So SHIELD threatened to take him down themselves if he didn't stop. But we underestimated his intelligence. In a rage, he released a murderous robot unto San Fransokyo. We won, but we paid a price for it, as you maybe know."

"We watched friends die in the Silver Epidemic, and even soon after our win, superheroes are still disappearing! I know, because anonymous people have been reporting obscure deaths of SHIELD members on the main SHIELD site. And people are afraid, they don't speak up about this! We all live in constant fear of this organization." Laird by this point was rambling, as though he was relieved to let this long-kept secret out. "I tried," he said lifelessly. "I stood up to him. I was stupid. He took my family. My wife Janey and my little Roberta. Murdered them in front of my eyes, and then he blackmailed me and Chen to work with him." He sighed greatly. He had barely any more energy life to relate more. His eyes were lifeless and hollow.

"Why would anyone do this?" Honey Lemon whispered. She wanted to cry for him, the sweet soul that she was, but after several years of witnessing victims' pains, she learned to buck up and cover it up.

"Okay, so," Wasabi said, "in a nutshell, your past affiliation made you a target. Okay. Now is blackmail why you both bombed the place up?"

"Yes. The _shinobi_ contacted me shortly before the presentation at the Hall. By jeebies, some of those silver-suits were kids!"

A heavy silence hung in the air.

"We're currently on the dark net, trying to get more information about what you described," Wasabi explained. "Can you, by any chance, lead us there?"

"Pah!" Laird spat. "Don't even try. I myself searched without result."

"Well, thank you again." Wasabi nodded once again, and he made to shuffle his way out with Honey Lemon.

"Wait," Laird called out. "Well, some remaining SHIELD members are atrociously knowledgeable about the ways of the dark web. If you're lucky, they can help you find something about the Giri."

"Really?"

"I'm talking SHIELD level here, kid! C'mere."

When Wasabi and Honey Lemon edged closer, Laird pulled out a mini laptop and typed in access to a lone site.

"Here – a list of agents who survived after The Silver Epidemic, and their contact info. Don't bother surfing the rest of the SHIELD site – it's been a broken link for a long time – but here the names of SHIELD members in San Fransokyo still exist. Try searching experts in security hacking. You might try to contact them, sure, but…" Laird chuckled humorlessly. "I doubt you will. They could all be dead for all I know."

"Thank you," Honey Lemon finally said, after she wrote all the agents' information on her phone and took screenshots just in case. Wasabi slowly nodded his thanks. He looked awkward and somewhat repentant at having threatened Laird, who seemed more human and less minion now. "Every bit of information will help us in our endeavor."

Laird snorted. "You kids, acting all heroic. Just take it and get out!"

Wasabi and Honey Lemon didn't face each other on the trip down the elevator. Honey Lemon, who was clutching her phone as though for her life, felt exulted that at least they were still on track. But at the same time, Wasabi's threats to a man trapped in a corner kept surfacing to her mind and disturbing her somewhat. Although such extreme interrogation tactics were very rare within her team, even when dealing with enemies, she absolutely refused to partake in any of it. Ever. She remembered how at first when Big Hero 6 was founded, only Gogo and Hiro ever resorted to this.

The elevator hit first floor and opened up. Honey Lemon saw one blonde nurse with very pale skin pass them into the elevator and vaguely admired her long volumized hairdo.

Not surprising how ever since that sticky Giri case unfolded, she stopped taking interest in things related to her interests like fashion and hairdos, Honey Lemon thought. Heck, she even had to temporarily close her own online boutique to help her friends.

Everything was changing.

Even her OCD friend.

She glanced at Wasabi – he was still the bulky, obsessive-compulsive sweetie that everyone knew and loved and poked fun of, but he _changed._ He grew much more confident, more quick to act and almost merciless in times like these. Even Gogo stopped calling him a wuss so much. Today he proved that if the situation called for it, he could pull the blackmail card on people.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Wasabi gave off a long sigh. Now his face crinkled with uncertainly, as though wondering at himself and his actions back at the hospital. But,

"No," he said shortly.

Honey nodded and changed the subject. "I'm starving. Wanna go eat first, and then get to work?" They stepped outside the hospital, into the afternoon sun.

"Yea, come to think of it, I'm starving too!"

"Okey-doke! Where to, 'Sabs? How about Li Min's Twin Bamboo Restaurant?"

"What?! Don't you know all the chemicals they put in there? Look, I don't know about you, Honey Lemon, but that food contains nearly the entire periodic table of elements…"

While Wasabi started ranting about the dangers of unhealthy eating, Honey Lemon dared to giggle once again.

 _Sounds like the good old Wasabi that I know._

On Wasabi's whim, they ended up eating sandwiches at Aaish's Organic Kitchen, the only restaurant that Wasabi trusted. And then they got _really_ drowsy. So maybe it came as no surprise that when both students trudged back down to the Lee family's secret base, they swore that as soon as they opened the door, they saw a fleeting pose of Gogo's contorted, angry face and a fist raised as though to strike a punch towards Fred, and Fred recoiling, his face covered with a comic book, before both jumped and looked up at the Honey and Wasabi.

"Am I hallucinating from sleep already, or did I just see Gogo about to punch Fred?" Wasabi asked suspiciously.

Fred let out a shaky laugh. "Pay no mind, guys, Gogo gives me threats like these all the time. Right, Gogo?" He nudged Gogo, who jerked away from him. She looked very irritable.

"Sorry," she muttered, clenching her fists. "I was so mad. I…didn't know what I was gonna do." She looked over at Fred with a fierce expression, while the latter was smiling sheepishly at her. "It's just this idiot keeps on distracting me with his stupid comic book theories!" she burst out.

"Hey, she started it!" Fred shouted back. "I _politely_ requested that she look at an exclusive deep web link in this here comic book-" he waved a battered comic book in the air, "-and next thing, her fist bumps my face-"

"That's not how I remember it!" Gogo shouted.

Wasabi intervened, "I don't care who started it! This isn't the place nor time to start a World War 3 here! I was about to tell you some possible hope-lifting news, but…"

"Okay. I'm cool. I'm good. Shoot," Gogo said gruffly.

Wasabi and Honey Lemon filled Fred and Gogo in, including the newest clues: Katsuro Tokushima was the mysterious identity behind the Giri. Then they showed everyone the list of SHIELD contacts. Gogo's eyes lit up.

"Finally!" she said, snatching the list. "Finally, we can get an expert! Shang Li's bribing techniques aren't getting anywhere, by the way."

"Yea, old man's still at it, playing the spammer and spammee with the Chinese mafia," Fred clarified. "Wowza, he's asleep, by the way." Shang Li was hunched against the keyboard and gently snoring.

"Yeah, well," Wasabi filled in the silence with his huge yawn, "I need a good kitty nap on this here couch, if you don't mind, Gogo. Then I can contact agents-"

"No need." Gogo straightened the roll of paper. "I'll take over."

"Thank you." Honey Lemon patted Gogo on the back. "No more cat fights with Fred while we sleep?" she said with a faint smile.

"Don't worry," Fred said, also yawning. "I'll be out of the way." He grabbed some blankets and spread them on the floor, since Honey and Wasabi were to use their own couches. "Nighty, everyone!"

And Fred turned over in his blanket next. What Gogo thought he intended to sleep, at first. But when she heard from Fred's end his silent but enthusiastic mutterings of, "Darkhawk…gunna use his darkforce, darkforce…. like in Star Wars, Star Wars, hmm, hmm, mmm…I dunno what rhymes with 'force'," in a sing-song tone, Gogo shook her head. Fred was, surprisingly, irritating her more than ever. What, was it not right, then, that she exploded the way she did after coming at her time after time with his smart-aleck ideas on disproportionate science fiction inventions and conspiracy theories from comics that could have, as he said, a link to the Giri? She was a mechanical engineer, of all things; grow up, Fred! That, and the fact that he lounged around eating chips and reading comic books, made her want to, she regretfully admitted, beat the sappiness out of her friend.

 _Maybe I need fresh air, too._

 _Focus now, girl. This isn't mechanical science. This time, we're doing negotiating._

Gogo resigned herself to a plushy chair, snapped open a Red Bull for some energy, took out a laptop and phone, and looked up the first contact.

* * *

Dehlia's pale face was unreadable as the video minus the audio showed the tearful Laird speaking to the two SFIT students.

"He finally spilled," Dehlia, who could lip-read, whispered. "Wait – wait – zoom in there." She gestured to a team of operators behind her, who displayed the video on a holographic display. It zoomed in to the screen of the laptop that Laird was holding.

"Ah." She turned to the blonde lady. "Thank you for informing me. I think you know what to do at this point."

"Yes, ma'am!" The lady saluted, turned on her heel and walked off.

"So…they're the famous Big Hero 6, hm? Well. They disappoint me," Dehlia murmured while pacing the chamber floors.

"Would you like me to dispatch a fresh team of _shinobi_ on them?" her advisor asked.

"No. Why waste time on a weak leaderless team? It's going to crumble on itself soon anyways. Although," she said as an afterthought, "I'm wildly curious: what _is_ this Big Hero 6 up to?"

"Is it possible that they're trying to find us out?"

"It's impossible," she said flatly. "Our location and information is too confidential. Even the nosy Chinese mafia's knowledge of us is limited." She pressed a knuckle against her lip while she thought. "However…we need to keep tabs on this Big Hero 6. Just in case."

"Sure!" the advisor said. "We got restless field agents up for the task. But ma'am, field agents are so hard to deal with. One: they're not _conditioned_. Two: They're too clever for their own good, like you said. Three: why do we need an agent, again? Can't we just wipe out this Big Hero 6 breed?"

"It would be a dangerous decision," Dehlia said simply. "The FBI is keeping good enough tabs on them. If we intervened, it would a messy business. We'd have blood on our hands, and the UN would see the correlation and put us on our suspect list! Besides…" she smiled smugly, "I'm in the mood for a little fun."

"Choo! Gianelli! Will ya shmucks just pipe down over there?" the advisor yelled towards two off-duty agents. They were obviously in one tense confrontation, because both were trying to shout the other down and looked _this_ close to pulling a gun on each other.

Dehlia rested her fingers against her temple. _Spies. So difficult to work with._

She looked over at the fired-up duo again.

"Wait a minute. I think I found one."

* * *

" _Jess Morani, field agent. Clearance level blue_. Yea, whatever that means," Gogo murmured. She dialed his phone number.

"I'm sorry, the number you're trying to call is unavailable, please try again." Gogo hung up before the familiar voicemail formed two sentences. She had gone halfway through the list. She phoned them, private messaged them on Facebook or their other social medias (rarely any of them looked updated recently), and even looked them up on Whitepages for their background. After further background searches, she realized some of them didn't even exist – at least, they did at a certain point. Not anymore.

 _Wasabi warned me right: these people are dead. I'm phoning dead people. Dead people!_

Next up: _Austin Francisco, intelligence collection analyst and field agent, formerly employee for the Secret Warrior._

 _The Secret Warrior?_ Gogo mused. _Like, from Marvel. Huh. Maybe Fred wasn't always lying when he talked about these secret societies actually existing._

She called.

"The number you have reached has been changed. The new number is _[new number]_."

So Gogo phoned the new number.

"I'm sorry, the number you're trying to call is unavailable, please try again."

Gogo was about ready to punch something by now. These callers were such disgusting cowards. She almost hated herself for calling them that, but that's what it seemed based on one call that she actually reached an hour back. A certain Ray Winchester dude answered with a casual, "Hello?" Gogo heard what sounded like little children squealing with delight, maybe romping around before their bedtime.

 _This former SHIELD agent sounds like a guy happily married with kids. What the heck am I doing, jeopardizing his life on this line?_ Gogo had thought. But she plucked up the courage. "Are you Ray Winchester?"

"Yes, and who are you?" The man's voice quickly escalated with thinly veiled hostility.

"I don't want to scare you, Mr. Winchester. We are Big Hero 6, and we need information on a certain organization from 13 years. The Giri. I request-"

But this Ray Winchester snapped. He shouted out many R-rated curses at her into the phone before Gogo hung up on him.

Next time, she'll just tell the next caller, "I'm watching you. If you hang up on me, you're dead."

Other than that, the rest of the calls were unavailable, didn't exist, or just weren't picked up. And no one responded on Facebook yet.

Gogo looked at her watch. A quarter past eleven. Three hours since she took to the task. Everyone else decided to snooze on the couches and leave her to it. She felt Red Bull's energizing effects ebbing away from her body, leaving her unable to keep her eyes open.

 _No!_ Gogo rubbed her eyes awake. _No, no, no, no! Darn sleep! I'm doing this for Hiro!_

Ironically, despite her stubbornness, Gogo's head hit the plushie chair and slowly fell into a long-needed unconscious abode without even knowing…

Next thing she knew, she was startled awake to a Metallica ringtone from the vibrating phone on her lap.

 _Whuzza-?_ Gogo thought irritably she checked the time. Nine o'clock A.M. Shang Li was on the computer, while Honey Lemon was dabbling in her usual chemistry kit on one table. Both looked up with curiosity at Gogo.

"Why didn't you-" Gogo wanted to say, "-wake me up," but muttered it off and checked the phone's caller.

She didn't recognize the number.

Her heart beat more quickly. After all her effort, last night, could this be…? She answered the mobile. "Hello?"

"Hello?"

"Uh…yes, hi. Did you by any chance get a call from me last night? Or possibly, a Facebook message?"

"Ah, yes." The stranger's voice, which sounded like a young lady's, gave a shaky laugh. "I think your message said 'Hi, remember me?' Only your posts were private, so I didn't know you…"

"Right, right," Gogo said quickly. She felt Shang Li and Honey observe her with curiosity. She decided to get to the point. "I contacted you because you are an ex-agent of S.H.I.E.L D – _don't_ freak out!" Gogo couldn't help saying the last part in a commanding tone, because she did want not to lose her "bait" again.

A long silence on the stranger's end.

"Yes," she finally said quietly. "And who are you?"

"Big Hero 6," Gogo said. "Listen, we're on your side. Our friend was kidnapped by the same organization that your type long feared. See, what we request is…"

While Gogo was saying those things, Fred and Wasabi just came back from the store to pick up some fresh produce (besides the usual pancake mix and canned blueberries). They were silenced by Gogo's stern glare while she listened on the other end. Aside from the _mm-hmm_ s and talking about Big Hero 6's current mission, the rest could only figure out for themselves that Gogo, after all her searching from last night, found someone. Finally.

"Speaker, Gogo," Honey Lemon mouthed. She wanted to hear what the other side was saying.

Gogo turned on the speakers, and the rest huddled around her, just in time for to hear their client say, "Most people really are in hiding, refusing to help you, aren't they?"

"Mm."

"Well," the caller said slickly, "I think you're in luck. I'm experienced in interrogation, so leave that to me.

"You'll do it?" Gogo asked with bated breath.

"What have I got to lose? If I do this right, the Giri won't track me. When would you like to meet?"

* * *

Gogo tapped her foot against the floor and checked her watch for the upteenth time. It was now 3:02 in the afternoon. The stranger, whose name turned out to be Dulcinea Perez, had agreed to meet up at the Yama Fuji Sushi Bar at 3 o'clock sharp.

A lad dressed like a hippie was taking shots of something at a bar stool. At least five bikers were laughing raucously with a bar host dressed in a Japanese kawaii-style waitress uniform. A surly-looking waitress was cleaning up at one table. Other than that, either couples in love or friend groups were occupying the tables today. As of now, Gogo wasn't sure how she could identify a Dulcinea in the bar, which gathered a fairly large crowd today.

Fred was at a separate table, chatting his fill with multiple waitress hosts at once. He had his arms around two girls, and he must've been very humorous or the girls wouldn't have been giggling and swooning at his every word.

Earlier, before Gogo left, Fred and she had another fight that could've headed in a worse direction had Honey Lemon loudly suggested that _both_ she and Fred just needed just some fresh air, hence all the tension between them.

"Both of you need to make up," Honey urged them.

So Fred ended up tagging along with Gogo.

"Get your own table," she hissed once they both entered the bar. "I don't want to be seen with you."

 _Was I too harsh?_ Gogo wondered. _Well, at least he's not taking this personally._

 _Dulcinea, where are you!_ Gogo kept an eye on a lady in a cocktail dress sitting by herself and looking impatient for someone, because though chances were slim, she looked like she was awaiting someone.

Or maybe she was just awaiting a date. Oh, well.

Meanwhile, things were getting a little tense on Fred's part.

"So charming," one girl crooned.

"So funny!" another squealed, taking his arm. The hub of ditsy girls huddled closer to Fred.

"He-ey, personal space, ladies!" Fred said, holding his palms up. "Yow! What the-!" he cried and automatically jumped back when an unsuspecting girl pawed him from behind. "Hey, no touchie me!"

But the girls wouldn't stop touching and pulling and hassling and cooing in their cloyingly sweet voices.

"Help meeee, Gogo!" Fred cried, scanning the room for her.

Next thing he knew, he was forcefully pulled back from the tight-knit circle, found a sturdy arm wrapped around his throat in a headlock, and a knife pointed at his throat.

"Sorry, girls, he's actually mine," Fred's savior said coolly and pointed the knife – comically a _plastic_ knife – at the girls. "Whoever wants him shall have to go through _me_ first."

The gaggle of girls' smiles withered away. "And who are you?"

"Gogo?" Fred rasped. However, a tight squeeze on his windpipe forced him to keep silent.

"Who am I? Well, well. I'll let you decide. The question is, who are _you_ to decide to bother poor Frederick here? Oh, right, that's because you're all single weeaboos with no other job than being terrible bar hostesses. I bet ten dollars that most of you don't have your own boyfriends, and fifty dollars if the reason being is that they found you clogging 4Chan with your weeaboo rants-"

If the stranger's inferences spoke true, then it showed when the "weeaboos" started buzzing angrily amongst themselves.

"How dare you! 'Weeaboos?' Huh, I actually speak full Japanese!" one girl grumped.

"I'll decide that for myself." And then Fred's savior ratted off a dialogue of what sounded like fluent, fast-paced Japanese towards the weebs. Their protests drowned her out after three seconds.

"That's not even Japanese, I can't understand anything!" one girl screeched.

"Exactly! You can't even speak the language!"

The weebs insulted her back with nasty comments, but since they quickly realized they didn't have anything more to do with Fred, they split up and left him.

"You all right, sir?" The grip on Fred's throat loosened, and Fred sighed in relief.

"Phew!" Fred said, wiping his brow in exaggeration. "Thanks for saving me, Gogo, you sure gave those weebs a - wha-?" Fred ended when he saw Gogo herself storming up to him.

"Who are _you?_ " Gogo said sharply, pointing at Fred's savior.

"Woa, woa woa, I thought you were-" Fred cut off, pointing at Gogo in front of him, and then at his savior behind him. "Wait– yea, who _are_ you?"

So it wasn't Gogo that saved him. The person-who-wasn't-actually-Gogo had a fairly short stature, shoulder length auburn-brown hair, keen grey-green eyes, and casual clothes that didn't quite fit into the usual bar attire. She was still clutching the plastic knife in her hand.

"Oh, you're with her?" the girl told Fred with a genuinely apologetic expression. "I apologize in advance, didn't mean to steal him away from you…"

"Nah," Fred said coolly. "Gogo here's my friend. I mistook you for her – she's badass, by the way."

The girl smiled. "Ah, my mistake. I just hate weebs so much. That's why I thought I could help." She toyed with her knife. "Funny how plastic knives are so intimidating." She laughed ironically. "And macaronic Japanese."

"Wait – you spoke _fake Japanese_ to weebs?" Fred cried, roaring with laughter, with the girl chiming in.

"Of course – that's how you fish for weeaboos!"

"Actually, thank God Hiro's not here, for once," Fred added. "He's quite shy towards girls. He'd probably faint in my place." And he ended with another satisfying laugh.

Gogo cut into the duo's merry banter. "Wait – are you Dulcinea?" she asked suspiciously.

The assumed Dulcinea perked up at the mention. "Why, yes! And I assume you're Gogo? How very, very nice to meet both of you!" she shook Gogo's hand vigorously, and then Fred's. Fred returned the warm handshake just as enthusiastically.

"You're late," Gogo said.

"On the contrary. I came earlier than both of you and observed you. You just didn't notice me."

"But you don't _look_ like a Dulcinea," Gogo said. "'Dulcinea' is a Spanish name. Call me prejudiced, but you don't look Spanish."

"Come on, Gogo!" Fred laughed. "Stop being so suspicious of everyone!"

Dulcinea hem-hemmed. "Actually, Fred, she's right. Of course she should be suspicious." She faced Gogo. "Want proof?"

"Yes," Gogo said tightly.

Without another word, the assumed Dulcinea pulled out a SHIELD ID card and showed Gogo. Gogo wasn't convinced. "Dulcinea was 35 on her SHIELD biopic. You don't even look 25! Who are you?!"

Dulcinea sighed. "Well done, Gogo. Shows that you're very on top of things. I don't like stupid clients, you know? All right, then, I'll tell the truth. I am not Dulcinea. I am only a substitute for the actual Dulcinea."

"I knew it!"

"The real Dulcinea sent me, a first-time agent, to be in her place, since she knew her presence alone could be dangerous. I, for one, am a rookie. I don't have a record, nor have I had any affiliations or connections with outside influences and so I don't pose as a real threat to your enemies."

"What's your real name?" Fred asked.

"You can call me…Ditto."

"Oh! Anonymity! That's cool, too," Fred affirmed, bobbing his head. "I mean, all my friends have their own nicknames, too."

"All right, Ditto," Gogo concluded. "Can you complete the task that we've asked of you?"

"Trust me." Ditto smirked. "Dulcinea wouldn't have sent me if I couldn't."

* * *

Ditto cracked her knuckles, quickly typed in a link to a private message board that she knew, and typed away into a chat box while the Big Hero 6 gang approached closer to the newcomer.

"Whatcha doin'?" Fred asked.

If Ditto was busy, she was equally as willing to chat. In fact, she seemed quite laidback about the whole thing. "Indeed. The message board is started by the drug dealers in the Hebei region. I'm trying to reconnect with an old acquaintance…"

"Like, a _boss_ of the region?" Fred asked with bated breath.

"Uh-huh."

"How do you have such crazy connections with dangerous people, madam?"

Ditto shrugged one shoulder. "Heibei. Heibei happened."

"Tell me about it!"

Gogo shook her head at Fred. "Fred! Can't you see she's in espionage? You don't just ask personal things like that!"

"Oh! Ok!" Fred held up his palms in retreat. Then he whispered to make sure, "But you're technically a spy, right?"

Ditto chewed her lip. "We don't have a term for 'spy'," she replied matter-of-factly. "You can just refer to me as a field agent."

"You." She snapped her fingers towards Shang Li, "Get me a cup of ginseng tea!"

Shang Li was a little taken aback at the order, but humbly asked, "Ginseng? What would you prefer it with, honey, maybe?"

"Yeah. Make it strong!"

"Oh, by the way anybody here know Mandarin?" Ditto called out as Shang Li shuffled off.

Wasabi nervously spoke up. "I know a little." He examined the onscreen message written in Mandarin she sent to her contact.

"What she write?" Gogo asked.

"I…am…writing…in…regards…to…hidden…Giri…files…your boss…might…have…in his possession," Wasabi read.

"Right," Ditto said. "Um, I asked because sorry to burst your bubble, but in case my contacts send me any unexpected iffy stuff-"

"Like…pictures of gross stuff like mutilation, that type of stuff?"

"Ooh, yeah."

Wasabi didn't need any more convincing. With a muffled squeak, he scurried away from the computer, and Ditto typed away another response at the computer.

"You got a reply!" Honey Lemon gasped, pointing at the other side of the message board. "What did he say?"

"He recognized me," Ditto said. "Says he's collecting the files for me. So this might take a while."

The small group cheered, while Fred punched the air with air with one fist. "A'right! Finally, progress!"

"Gogo? You don't look very happy," Honey Lemon said to Gogo, concerned, while the latter crouched on a sofa and glared at Ditto.

"Nothing," Gogo said simply.

"Nothing? Gogo, you've been staring daggers at our new guest!"

"I don't trust her," Gogo said shortly.

"I don't blame you, dear," Honey Lemon said, sitting down next to her. "I know you're worried about Hiro, but SHIELD agents don't even have anything to do with Hiro, right?"

"That's the thing," Gogo said slowly. "I'm not sure _who_ she is, let alone from SHIELD." Then, as though an idea struck her, she got up and marched over to Ditto, who was in the middle of describing a captivating story to a starry-eyed Fred of what exactly happened in Heibei.

"You should hear her!" Fred said in a mesmerized voice. "Her adventures remind me a _leetle_ bit of Black Widow. Say, you could be the Black Widow – um, except you don't look much like Black Widow," he pointed out. In fact, if I may say so, you don't look like a field agent at all!" Fred smirked, analyzing her deadbeat appearance: faded shirt, sweat pants, and limp hair hanging at her shoulders.

"That's the whole point!" Ditto exclaimed, beaming.

Gogo cut them off, "Who _are_ you? I mean, how do we know you're a spy?"

"Field agent," Ditto corrected her. "If manual information didn't convince you, let me demonstrate some more. Observational skills, if you will." She swiveled her chair around. "Wasabi no Ginger, for instance, is an OCD with a major in physics."

Wasabi, who was experimenting with lasers in a mini-lab that he concocted on a table, dropped his wrench. "How does she know that?!"

"Honey Lemon is a chemical engineer; her side hobby is fashion blogging and culinary chemistry," Ditto continued. "She runs an online mini boutique called _Pretty Mode._ "

Honey Lemon's eyes widened, but unlike Wasabi, she laughed. "Oh, goodness! Sounds like a fellow fan!"

Ditto fixed a deadpan gaze at Gogo. "And I'd tell you more about you… _Ethel…"_ she whispered. "But let me rest my case by saying that I know you and Freddie took the sub to 3rd Avenue, then traversed to 4th St. to meet me today."

Gogo returned the glare but didn't say anything.

 _How did she…how did she know my real name?_ Gogo decided to be double wary from now on.

"Well, whaddya know, a message came!" Fred announced brightly. Everyone instantly huddled over to the screen again.

"Here your tea!" Shang Li appeared with the tea, his face sweaty from the time it took making it from natural produce.

"Ummm, I'd like some cream with it," Ditto said absentmindedly while she typed into a chat box. "The guy says it costs $10,000 for the files."

"I hope everyone's got $2000 to spare," Gogo groaned.

"Actually, no need." Within a minute, Ditto opened up a separate tab filled with a list of-

"Credit card numbers?" Wasabi said dubiously. "Wait, don't tell me – stolen credit cards on some secret carder forum."

Ditto nodded. "That's right. They're all mine."

"Don't worry, I only use only on extreme circumstances," Ditto said, reading Honey Lemon's mildly shocked expression. "All right, I gave him a number of $5000 worth of money. I told him if he gives us what we want, I'll send another $5000 worth."

A minute later, at least a hundred links began pouring into the chat box from the intended recipient. After paying again, Ditto clicked on one link. She only had to skim through it quickly before nodding her assent.

"We're in."

"Finally!" Fred and Honey cheered.

"Here…" Gogo roughly nudged her way into the seat to get a closer look.

Like of many dark web sites, the background was a deep black, giving it sensation of a deeply private site that tucked away countless secrets. Latest news blog posts included titles like, " _Shinobi_ caught on livestream in Indonesia," "This week in innovations," and who was selected into what official position.

"Look." Fred pointed upwards. _U.N. Confidential Reports,_ among other menu items like _Intelligence, Military_ and _Innovations_ made up the menu bar. "That sounds really…complex. Like, on a global scale."

"Yup." Gogo typed up _Tokushima_ in the search bar. "We'll start by finding out our perpetrators. She pressed _Enter_ , and countless search results piled below. She thought that the link heading _Personnel Files_ written by some anonymous contributor would be a good place to start. She clicked the link.

"Here!" Honey Lemon pointed to yet another file link among the alphabetical order of names: Katsuro Tokushima.

Gogo clicked again.

There was no picture of their target in the file, but there were several pages of Tokushima's bio down below.

"Take notes, someone," Gogo notified her friends. Honey Lemon waved her prepped virtual notebook.

" _Katsuro Tokushima_ ," Gogo read. "Nothing special yet. Aged 46, Former tycoon and SHIELD agent, international diplomat, founder and director of the Giri. Born in Wisconsin, educated in the Institution of New Yosaka, lots of doctorates in engineering, yadda yadda, lots of awards for discoveries in robotics, biomolecular engineering, biology, nuclear physics, and so on." She scrolled down to a section called "The Giri." " _After forming a rebellion against SHIELD, he created his own version of the intelligence agency. To his surprise, with his innumerable connections with 'outcast' crime gangs all over the world, his foundation grew. Now called the Giri, his brainchild is spurred on by his genius innovations and inventions, and powerful connections with global governments for his contributions_. Wait, this is interesting." Gogo scrolled even further. " _His pediatricians describe him as a cross between a mad scientist with the stereotypical white, runaway hair and an egomaniac. Diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, and manic disorder_. Oh, wait this is interesting: some of his own inventions are even used for torturing his victims in the most egregious ways, like-" Gogo cut off when a tense Wasabi's girlish wails of protests grew louder. "You're right, that part's so gross," Gogo muttered.

" _Known or possible Associations: Sun Ye Ok, the Paulino Organization, La Oficina da Envigado, Black Dragon, Hai Sang_ …as well as fifty hundred other organizations criminal enterprises listed here, looks like." Gogo looked disgusted.

"Ooh! Theory!" Fred said. "Maybe the Giri is the ringleader of all these organizations?"

Gogo continued: "It says here on _further collaborations_ that Katusro and his daughter Dehlia have both collaborated in several scientific breakthroughs that helped become the base of what the Giri is today. Mostly a bunch of scientific theories," she murmured. Words like _conditioning, biorobots,_ and _shinobi fighters_ caught her eye. She decided to investigate into these afterwards.

"You should check out her bio," Ditto called out, who was observing behind them at the couch.

"Why?" Gogo said skeptically.

"She's deputy director."

Gogo complied. A profile picture of Dehlia popped up. Her expression was slightly contorted into displeasure, almost like she was scowling.

Fred gave out a low wolf-whistle. "Even in a bad mood she looks totally fab."

Gogo read, " _Occupation: deputy director, genetic engineer. Bio: Born in New Yosaka, aged 20, self-acclaimed child prodigy by the age of three_. Annnd, the usual child prodigy accomplishments. Appeared on _Popular Science_ , the _Times_ magazine, and on "Jeopardy!", knows six languages, was homeschooled, graduated high school at eleven years. _At twelve she was a transfer student for one semester at…SFIT?_ " Even Gogo was astounded at this point. "I…I remember," she said. "There was a trophy room, and there was an award to Dehlia Tokushima in some biotech breakthrough."

"Wait, they have biotechnology in SFIT?" Fred asked. "I didn't know that."

Gogo continued, " _She was asked in an interview on how she felt about ordering the assassination down to the third generation of a family known for having many popular SHIELD members. "'I feel nothing. Even if I did, we are not going to achieve our goals without paying for it in blood'," she responded, thus branding her as the classical sadistic psychopath. Also diagnosed with anti-social disorder, depressive disorder, and is currently treating for bipolar disorder."_

"Gee, we're dealing with some seriously mental blokes," Fred joked.

"So, we know who they are, but _where_ are they?" Gogo asked irritably. She typed up "location of Giri." Many search results popped up, and when Gogo clicked one, several screenshots of a dark yet sophisticated-looking building interior popped up, followed by a dot on a digital map.

"The…Qikiqtaaluk region?" she said, and popped her gum. "Okay. When's the next place trip to Resolute Bay?"

"You can't simply 'get there,'" Ditto spoke up from behind.

"What do you mean?"

"Read on."

" _Giri headquarters, also known as The Dome due to its outward semi-circle structure, is unusual. Not only does the interior expand miles underground, but it's even protected against any and all intruders with an invisible electromagnetic shield enveloping the entire structure and making everything invisible to the naked eye_ ," Gogo read. "Whoever approaches the structure too closely will be electrocuted by the shield." Gogo slumped a little in her seat. "Then…how do they travel in and out?"

"Ohmygosh – portals!" Honey screeched, pointing to a screenshot of an active portal. "Maybe that's how!"

"Wait, and look – _they're perfected!_ " Fred cried. "How about them apples, Mr. Krei!"

"So how about it? Plan B, that is?" Wasabi said. "You know, find a _shinobi_ , mug a _shinobi_ , and put on a disguise as a _shinobi_ so we can get through the portal. But that sounds quite dangerous."

"Maybe." Gogo stood up from her seat, looking down at the floor in rumination.

"I'm afraid that's extremely dangerous, if not risky," Ditto said.

"See?" Wasabi screeched.

"And how do you know that?" Gogo asked Ditto.

"Trust me, if you dig further deep in this site, you'll know they have a vetting system," Ditto said darkly.

"But we've got to do something!" Gogo snapped. Honestly, she'd hit so many dead ends, and just when she thought they were progressing. "We need to know if Hiro's okay!"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Ditto asked slyly.

Gogo looked like she was about to grab Ditto by her oversized shirt. "Stop being impudent, you obnoxious little bra-"

"No, I'm serious," Ditto corrected herself quickly, in case Gogo's anger was about to get physical. "I can't help you _come_ to him, but I can help you _talk_ to him."

"What."

"I can connect your network to his, if you want," Ditto explained. "Scientists there likely have a computer of their own, you know. Then you can freely unleash your extravaganza of mushy-gushy long-time-no-sees, your burning inquiries, questions on the meaning of life and blah blah blah towards him." Ditto spread herself across the couch in a laid-back fashion and daintily bit into a pocky stick. "So, you want my help or not?"

* * *

 ***Shrugs* Yeah I know, I know, I could have a million excuses for not updating more often. I still hope you enjoy reading this crap even though my very irregular updating is inexcusable. On the other hand, this fanfiction take more MUCH more time, effort and intricacy to write, so I hope y'all understand. xD**

 **On the other hand, when I'm not writing this, I write other fanfictions, so feel free to check them out too. :)**

 **On a last note, PLEASE do not meddle into the deep web/dark net unless you really know what you're doing, cuz it can be pretty dangerous. I only write about it for entertainment purposes, and even then it's not meant to be described too realistically.**

 **I'll be back.**

 **There I said it.**

 **-KoolKat**


	11. A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

**Since I didn't update in a long while again, I guess it'd make sense to say that I'm putting this fanfiction on hold. One, this is a complex story with a complex plot, and I definitely haven't sorted out all the details of it yet. Second, it takes a while to perfect each and every individual chapter, and clearly that takes a lot of time from me when I still have other simpler fanfiction stories to get out of the way. Third, again, this story is complex. And I don't know if I have enough expertise to write on that level.**

 **Again, this story is just on hiatus. I love Big Hero 6, and I'm determined to not let this story go unfinished. I just need to get away, finish my other endeavors first, then"sit on it" for a while and see if I can sort out these future chapters into something coherent and therefore more enjoyable for the readers.**

 **But if you're still hanging around and you like my writing, tell me and I might consider getting back to this sooner. In the end, it's the readers who inspire me most.**

 **I hope you understand.**

 **KoolKat**


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